When The Night Broke
by Hannah Davenport
Summary: Sequel to "Bent" and "Twisted." Five years later, Ginny is a bored and depressed employee at Flourish and Blotts. Outside her little world lies an evil overlord of doom by the name of Radoc Lafoym, who is threatening society. How do they relate ?
1. Prologue

When the Night Broke - By Hannah Davenport

**When the Night Broke** - By Hannah Davenport

**Summary:** Sequel to "Bent" and "Twisted." Five years later, Ginny is a bored and very depressed employee at Flourish and Blotts. Outside her drawn-in, little world lies an evil overlord of doom by the name of Radoc Lafoym, who is threatening society. How do they relate?

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. It's just fan fiction!

**Work Cited:** Harry Potter Realm

**Prologue**

Draco had obviously thought of running when he spotted Lucius crouching in the Hogwarts bushes. He wanted to ask how long he had been there. He wanted to gently lay Ginny back onto the ground, and pummel his father with every bit of strength he could muster. Or he at least wanted to curse. But Ginny wouldn't want him to do any of these things. So, he didn't. He simply stood up, and casually leaned against the castle wall, which was cold and mossy in some places. Very soon, his father came swaggering towards him, looking outraged, which Draco had seen many, _many _times.

He came right up to Draco, took the collar of his Hogwarts uniform in his hands, and slammed him up against the wall. Draco distinctly heard his head crack. "Do you know how long I have been watching you, you impertinent, ignorant little moron?" he asked venomously, still grinding the back of Draco's head into the castle wall.

"Hmm Bob," Draco replied sarcastically. "I should've taken 'Difficult Latin Phrases for nine-hundred.' I'll just go with, every second since the very minute I was born."

Lucius put more pressure on Draco's skull, which was now beginning to pulse with pain. "Did you forget what day it is?" he snarled, eyes narrowed into malicious slits.

"No, I didn't," Draco replied, averting his gaze to the sleeping form of Ginny on the ground. "But I'm willing to bet you did. After all, the only birthday that's important to you is the Dark Lords. And, perhaps, yours. But who knows about that? You're never home on your birthday."

"I'm not talking about that, you insufferable idiot," Lucius growled, violence gleaming in his eyes, and a thirst for blood reverberating in his voice.

"Do you like words beginning with the letter 'I' or something?" Draco said in a perplexed tone. "Because so far you've said, I, impertinent, ignorant, it, I'm, insufferable, and idiot."

"Don't change the subject, you thick-headed simpleton." he snapped, his rage and vindictive wishes more apparent than ever. And Draco kept quiet. Some good it did him, though.

I think it is now time for me to tell you about the single one of the Undetectable Curses I didn't explain in the first part of this story: the Felispo Curse. The Felispo Curse is a very, very dangerous curse, simply for the reason that its purpose is induced vindictiveness. Something that only under very rare circumstances, will wear off. It feeds a venom of hatred and bitter loathing through your veins so fast you wouldn't even have time to say "Grandma's cookies!" before you found you hated your grandmother's cookies, and maybe even your grandmother. And then you'd be on a mad killing spree, realizing all the people you've "hated" without knowing it. And this was Draco's future. Especially after Lucius saw the Charm, which Ginny was still wearing.

Lucius dropped Draco in the middle of his head-grinding session/flaying, who crumpled to his knees. He knew what his father was going after. What he had seen. And indeed, just seconds later Lucius shoved the Charm under Draco's nose. "What - is - this?!" he growled. "_And don't you dare say a Keeper's Charm!_"

"Fine," Draco said softly. "I won't say it. But I think even _you_ have brains enough to see what it is."

Lucius slapped him. A crisp, sharp noise in the stillness of the night. Ginny sighed in her sleep, and Lucius pocketed the Charm. Draco's face burned as if it were on fire. Another unfortunate side effect of Lucius's punishments. "You're in for it now, boy..." Lucius growled angrily. "The Dark Lord only has five years left, and you need to be... trained."

And Lucius fired the message and the sign into the sky. The one that would leave Ginny thinking he was... not.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One:

**Chapter One:**

Ginny was now 22 years old. She worked at Flourish and Blotts bookstore, and lived at home, because of the terror that was now enveloping the whole of Britain. Because, on Draco's birthday of this year, the Dark Lord died, and his heir rose up one hundred times worse than the Dark Lord himself had ever been. Because earlier that year, Dumbledore had died at his hands. The name which was now substituted with the ominous "You-Know-Who" was Lord Radoc Lafoym - Gnommish for "Angel of Death", and Gobbledegook for "Mad serial killer".

Ginny was sitting at home, drinking a cup of tea when her father came home from work. He looked extremely harassed, and slumped in his chair the minute he made contact with it.

"It's a mad house out there, Gin," he sighed, and she reached over and patted his hand in a calming sort of way. "Absolutely horrible. They're all asking me whether or not the Ministry has put a stop the attacks, and I told them they wouldn't have seen one in the paper this morning if we had. And they all exploded..." he sighed warily, and rubbed his eyes under his glasses. "I'm starting to think getting promoted wasn't such a good idea - even if Percy is the Minister..." he added as an afterthought.

"Oh, Dad," Ginny said quietly. She found it eerie that You-Know-Who came into their world on Draco's birthday. It was unsettling. "Dad, does anyone know if this guy was a Death Eater before he became who he is? Do you have an identification?"

Her dad grunted with the effort of sitting up straight after a full day of running errands for Percy. "There's only one explanation that makes sense," he replied. "But there's just one problem with it - Draco Malfoy isn't really here anymore. When we found his body out in Edinburgh..."

Ginny's throat tightened. The body had been awful. She, being the last one who had seen him, had been obligated to identify it. She shuddered, and not because she was drinking tea as cold as ice. "Please don't talk about that, Dad," she said gently, and he nodded in understanding.

"He never seemed to be a particularly cheerful child," he muttered, conjuring up some coffee. "Did he ever say anything to you about his home life?"

"No," Ginny replied quietly - so quietly that her voice was barely above a whisper. "But it was evident to me what kind of life he had." She thought of that September first when she had helped him fix his battered face.

"Well," he said, drinking deeply from his coffee mug. "I know he must have been very important to you - an example of not judging a book by its cover - but you'll make new friends, Ginny darling. Once you start talking to people outside of your family and Harry, that is."

Ginny closed her eyes slowly, and wished the tears back into their ducts. She wasn't going to cry. Draco wouldn't want her to cry. Draco would say it was wrong to cry. Draco would want her to get on with her life, even if he wasn't in it. She thought of the last time she had seen him alive. On his birthday two years before. How they had discussed things with each other - things they were supposed to do together eventually.

"I'll never have another friend like Draco," she said, but her father was already headed up for his annual after-work-nap, and couldn't hear the complete and total depression in her usually light and melodic voice.

He glowered out the window of Deathtrap Tower, not understanding the nature of the crisp and bright leaves that were scattered on the ground. He hated leaves almost as much as he hated trees; which was almost as much as he hated not being obeyed.

"I don't mean to be a bother," he said sharply, and the others inside the room stiffened. He smirked to himself. He loved feeling in control and powerful. He loved taking people's worst fears right out of their measly little minds, twisting them to be one hundred times worse, and shoving them under their ignorant noses.

"Didn't I order that blasted acacia chopped down?" He turned to glare at his minions, an eyebrow arched and his wand waiting in the pocket of his cloak to kill the first person who came forward.

No one moved, or said a word. The silence was so thick he could have sworn no one was breathing.

"No one up to confessing?" he asked in a tone of mock despair. "All right then, I guess I'll just have to pick..." his eyes traveled along the line of Death Eaters that were watching him, sweat pouring down their faces like they were just another part of Niagara Falls. He tried not to be sick, and his eyes stopped on one man who he couldn't help but laugh at.

"Lucius, my dear man," he said, feigning joviality, and clapping Lucius on the shoulder. "I believe it's your turn. The rest of you - get that blasted tree out of my sight before I take it and do something you will not at all like."

They all hurried out of the room, except for Charles, who was the assistant, as Wormtail had been to Voldemort. He walked over to his ebony desk, and sat down, filing through some very organized papers. "Lucius," he said as he did this. "I want you to know this has nothing to do with our past. I'm simply doing this because I can."

"Y - yes, My Lord," Lucius stammered, trembling as he had never done before.

"Actually," he began again. "That last part was a lie. It is because of our past, and I hate your bloody guts." He sighed and smirked. "But don't look so worried, man!" he ordered. "It will be long and slow and painful, yes, but at least where you're going, you'll feel right at home. And it's hot, so maybe you'll get a tan to fix that vampire complexion you've got."

Lucius laughed. It was a nervous laugh. The one you hear when people are secretly wanting to plead and beg for mercy. But it was useless in this case. Because he didn't have a thread of mercy in him.

"And as long as you're going to be croaking," he added. "Charles, run and get Narcissa, will you?"

Charles nodded. He was a tall, thin man. Rather creepy looking as well. Just the right make for a butler. He walked briskly out of the dark doors that had snakes and all manner of terrifying things carved into them. He looked at Lucius with a small amount of sympathy.

"Lucius, Lucius, Lucius," he sighed, looking up from the papers. "It seems that as I was murdering that barmy old coot Albus, that you were trying to lead a revolt against me. Accused me of cheating my men, and told them that I was 'a stupid imbecile'. We can't have that kind of behavior, now can we?" Lucius shook his head and murmured, "No, My Lord. Never," just as Narcissa and Charles entered the room.

"Now," he said, standing up and pulling his wand from his pocket. "Let's see... Maintaining hold of all the evidence... all of his rebellious attempts to sabotage me... Ah yes. This one hasn't been used for a while."

He straightened up, and smiled at Narcissa, who looked positively horrified. "Crucio," he laughed, swishing his wand at Lucius and completely ignoring Lucius's and Narcissa's mixed screams. "Charles," he added, turning to his manservant. "Make sure Narcissa stays inside the room until he stops screaming. And leave him to die." He pocketed his wand, whistling a depressing little tune about something or other, and stopped at his screaming victim, who was flailing around and twitching like mad. "Have a nice time in the fiery pits, Father," he said sincerely. "And make sure to tell Voldie hello for me."

He then swaggered out of the room, a smile on his pale face. The eyes that were once a brilliant silver now glowed a dark and depressing grey, with hints of red tinting them. He was an 'evil, evil man' as one boy had put it right before he met his demise. Lord Radoc smiled to himself. A smile that showed how truly bad he had become. Out in the corridor, he looked out another window to make sure they were getting rid of that hideous tree, which they were. He then Apparated into another meeting room, where three people were waiting for him.

"Ah, hello gentlemen." he said darkly. "Did you get the information I asked for?"

"Yes," said one of the men, stepping forward and handing Draco a large black envelope. "Directions to his house, and blueprints of it. I would bet all the money I have that Mr. Potter will certainly be surprised to see you, my Lord." He chuckled in a way that lacked every human emotion.

Lord Radoc smiled wryly. "Yes," he said curtly, thinking that he was surrounded by morons. "That is the point rather, Avery."

"I apologize, My Lord..." Avery said, daunted.

"You should be," Lord Radoc laughed. And within seconds Duncan Avery was writhing on the floor, screaming in agony.

Lord Radoc smiled, and walked from the room. Not Disapparating because he wanted to look over the information. He wanted to have the entire plot of Potter's house memorized. He wanted to block every single and last chance for escape.

Because he was going to strike that very night - and then the world would finally feel his wrath. They would know he wasn't one to be trifled with.

Ginny pulled a coat on as she walked out the door. She was headed to Harry's for games with Ron and Hermione. It was going to be a long night, but she was going to try and smile, and not say anything. It was her nature not to complain. So, she Disapparated, dreading the topics of discussion for tonight's games of Exploding Snap, and Advanced Truth-or-Dare, which Harry and Ron had 'invented'.

"Hey Ginny," Harry said when he opened the door. "What's up? Anything new at work?"

"Not much," she replied cheerfully. "We got a new shipment of textbooks in today, but that's all. How about you?" She marveled to herself that she had begun telling lies. Even if it was just in tone of voice.

"Not much," he agreed. "Come on in, Ron and Hermione are already here."

The night basically went like that. They had decided to skip Advanced Truth-or-Dare, at the pleading of Ginny and Hermione. Last time they played, Hermione had been forced to eat Pig's food, and Ginny had to switch bodies with Ron. Needless to say they weren't eager to play it again.

So, after about four hours of playing, laughing, and talking, Ron and Hermione left. Ginny had decided she better go as well, but first she was going to run upstairs to the restroom.

She would soon find out how smart that really was.

He peered through Potter's windows, sneering. He was going to do this the right way, or he would never forgive himself. At this moment, Potter was sitting on the sofa. Lord Radoc materialized in front of him.

"Hello, Harry," he said bitterly.

Potter jumped. It was quite funny to see. Of course, this was his house, and someone dressed like the grim reaper had just appeared in front of him, so it made sense to jump. "What the -" Potter began to say, but then he swallowed, and understood.

"If you try and run you'll die anyway," Radoc said with a look of immense entertainment. "But, I might as well just take care of that now." He raised his wand, and narrowed his eyes, because Harry Potter was now shuffling through the house, looking for where he had set his wand. Radoc chuckled, a vindictive laugh that showed how poisoned his mind was.

"Hold still, Potter." he commanded. "Hold still or I'll go after your sidekick and your Mudblood girlfriend as well."

Potter looked up, frozen. He looked disbelieving, and he barely had time to stammer, "You . . ." before Lord Radoc Lafoym sent Harry the Hero to his downfall. But this man had killed Albus Dumbledore. There wasn't much he _couldn't_ do.

And as he was just about to Disapparate, someone came down the stairs. Someone who looked painstakingly familiar. She looked around the bottom level of Potter's house, and then looked right at Radoc. And then he knew. Of course, she had gotten a bit taller, and had become a bit more curvy, but she still had the long, spiraling red curls, still at waist-length. And she still had freckles sprinkled across her face. And she still had imploring brown eyes, covered by the transparent lenses of her rectangular glasses. He ground his teeth together, and she passed out, falling down the last three stairs.

He walked right over to her unconscious figure, and his heart stopped. He would have to kill her. _Ah_, said a voice in his head, _you don't have to kill her. You are the Ultimate Evil Overlord! No one can question your authority._

"Yes," he agreed, nodding at the voice. "But people she knows will probably know she went over here tonight. If her body is missing from the scene, and she doesn't come home, they'll think I've gone soft."

_True_, the voice muttered.

"And I haven't," he added hastily. But even as he looked at her face, eyes closed and glasses now cracked, he knew he couldn't kill her. So he did the only thing he could think of. He moved her body out of the house, and then set it on fire, after which muttering the incantation for the Dark Mark of his, a nefarious looking serpent coiling around a bloody sword.


	3. Chapter 2

When the Night Broke - By Hannah Davenport

**When the Night Broke** - By Hannah Davenport

**Summary:** Sequel to "Bent" and "Twisted." Five years later, Ginny is a bored and very depressed employee at Flourish and Blotts. Outside her drawn-in, little world lies an evil overlord of doom by the name of Radoc Lafoym, who is threatening society. How do they relate?

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. It's just fan fiction!

**Work Cited – **Harry Potter Realm

**Chapter Two**

It was dark. That was all Ginny could tell. It was rather obvious her glasses had been removed, and she rubbed her eyes sleepily. Her first thought was that she was at home in her bed, and it was the middle of the night, and that whole thing with Harry's house had been a horrible, horrible nightmare. But, her bed wasn't nearly as big as the one she was in now. And she was dressed in her normal clothes.

You didn't have to be a rocket-scientist to figure out what had happened.

She screamed, and the room lit up. She saw someone (or rather, a blurred outline of someone) slowly approach her, and hand her the familiar rectangular wire-frames. She put them on, and saw a very creepy looking man standing above her.

"He - hello," she stammered, looking around the room. It was made of stone, oddly enough, and curious metal torch brackets lined the walls. There were no windows, only a single chair added to the decor.

"My Lord wishes to know if you are hungry," the creepy man said, in a deep and intimidating voice.

"No," she replied nervously, pulling her knees up to her chin. "But, could I please speak with him, maybe?"

He gave her a perplexed look. "I'm sorry," he said darkly. "But Lord Radoc said that if you asked, I was supposed to tell you he's much to busy, but maybe tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Ginny asked, shocked. "I'm not going to be here that long, am I?"

He looked completely stunned. "Madam," he said. "I thought most people would have guessed . . . Once you enter Deathtrap Tower as a prisoner, you never leave."

Ginny began to feel slightly irritated now. "Oh, that's nice," she replied. "Well, would you please tell his unorthodoxness that however ominous and foul he may be, I would like to have a word or twenty with him."

He furrowed his eyebrows, and stalked off, and it was all Ginny could do not to curse in depression at her prisoner-like state. But after he shut the door, she had something else to think about. Because the moment the door creaked shut, the lights went out, and she was plunged into complete and total darkness once more.

"_I can't believe it! I can't believe you did that!_" Narcissa shrieked as Radoc calmly sipped a glass of wine.

"Oh, come now," Radoc sighed, leaning back in a very cushy armchair that resided by an empty fireplace. "I had to do it sooner or later, you know. And you remember what my childhood was like, don't you? And almost all of your married life?" She merely glared at him with cold eyes as a reply. He sighed, deeply, shut his eyes out of immense frustration, and threw his now empty wineglass at the wall. It shattered, and he opened his eyes.

"Just because he was horrible," Narcissa said bitterly. "Doesn't mean I didn't love him."

"Love?" he chuckled mirthlessly. "Honestly, mother, I thought you knew there wasn't such a thing. Love is for small children and thick-headed idiots who have absolutely nothing to believe in. Love is only one more word for blindness and confusion. Love is an ailment, mother, and the best thing anyone could ever do is to dispose of it."

"You are an impossible dolt," Narcissa spat, and she turned quickly and left the room.

Radoc slid down in his chair, closing his eyes once more. "Thank you," he said to himself. "Thank you, I'll be sure to remember that when your day comes. Which will be very soon if you don't keep your impertinent and immature thoughts to yourself."

All Ginny could tell, was that it was very, very cold in this room that was her prison cell. Even though her bed had thick comforters and sheets, she couldn't help but feeling the cold was more than the room temperature. To her, it felt as though the dementors had made a return. A violent and bloodthirsty return, like that of the new Dark Lord.

She writhed about in the bed, not knowing what to expect. Not knowing whether or not she was going to die quickly or if this man was going to torture her in a long and painful way. Have her die over the space of a week, or something like that. The thought terrified poor Ginny as she sat alone in that dark, cold room; but what was the alternative? Her wand had obviously been confiscated while she had been unconscious, and there wasn't much you could do without a wand these days.

"Oh, it's no use behaving in such a negative way," she told herself sharply. "Before now you've always looked on the bright side - even before you met Draco, so don't try that one on us again.

"But I'm going to die," she began tearfully. "Oh, shut up," she told herself angrily. And then she came to the realization that she had been talking to herself, in which case she began sobbing worse than ever. "I'm going mental!" she cried hopelessly. "I'm going to be a nutty old fool until I die!"

And then a noise made her shut up, and listen carefully. It was a creaking noise. Thin and slightly hollow with a hint of metal scraping against wood. She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. The door was opening. And this was not the way Charles usually opened the door. He usually just flung it open. But this . . . this was prolonged and dusty and frightening. And Ginny, watching the sliver of light that was coming into the room get wider, silently crawled into a corner behind the bed. If this was her moment, then she wasn't going to give in that easily.

The steady _clop_ of shoes on the floor soon followed the noise of the creaky old door, and Ginny found that the palms of her hands had a thin coat of perspiration. The _clop_ got closer, and Ginny, shut her eyes tightly.

_Breathe_, she told herself nervously. _Just sit here, and hope he doesn't find you..._ The noise stopped. And Ginny got the feeling that she was being watched. _So much for hoping_, she thought sadly.

"Hello, Miss Weasley," said a voice. A voice that sounded to Ginny as though it were half steel. Steel that had been embedded in ice.

"Hullo," she replied quietly, very surprised at her courage.

He chuckled softly - a sound that was what Ginny would later compare to murder. "Do get up from there," he ordered. His tone wasn't sharp, but it wasn't gentle, either.

Ginny slowly straightened up, and sat staring up at him from the floor. The room was now lighter than it had been, but some shadows still lingered on, waiting to grab a hold of and disrupt. And this man, the Dark Lord, was more shadowed that Ginny would ever be able to comprehend. His short hair was silver-blonde, and his eyes a cold, hard gray. His expression was not murderous, but it wasn't kind. From her estimation, Ginny guessed that he was about six foot four. And despite all the lines of intensity and anger in his face, she could tell that he wasn't much older than herself.

He smiled a rather twisted smile, and said, "Ginny, Ginny, Ginny. How long it's been."

He couldn't look right into her eyes, even though she was doing just that to him. She had done it before, only once. She was trying to read him. Trying to see whether his intentions were good or bad. She was wondering where on earth she had seen him before, if she had at all. But she had. And he was somewhat pleased that she didn't know that. It kept him in power. One step ahead. Or possibly three.

"What?" she asked, shocked.

A malicious smirk played his lips, and he folded his arms across his chest. "What - you don't remember?" he asked in a tone of hurt dignity and sorrow. "Well, soon enough I'll be jogging your memory."

"What do you want with me?" she asked abruptly, looking like she was acting braver than she felt.

"What do I want with you..." he repeated, still smirking in a dangerous sort of way. "Well, not much. I want you to sit in this room, and, well, sit."

"Sit?" she asked incredulously.

"What?" he asked ominously. "Did you think I was fixing to have you murdered in a highly long and painful fashion? I think not. If I were going to kill you any time soon, I would perform a simple, old-fashioned cranioectomy with a long and rusty strip of metal and no anesthetics. So I _would_ behave myself, if I were you."

She swallowed in fear. "I don't doubt it," she muttered to herself. But he chose to ignore this remark.

"So," he began again. "Let's get your record straight, shall we? Your name is Virginia Weasley, your age is twenty two, your birthday is November thirteenth, you are the youngest of seven children and the only girl, and you work - (well, _worked_) - at Flourish and Blotts bookstore. Correct?"

She nodded. "But how...?" she asked quietly.

"Oh, come _on_." he laughed. "I keep very neat records of all my victims. Heavens, you were such a brilliant little girl, and now you've become such a thick young lady."

"I'm not thick!" she cried in indignation, quite forgetting who she was talking to. "I know a lot of things you don't. That it's very wrong to go about killing people because you've had too much to drink, for example!" She was about to continue, but she checked herself, and stared determinedly at the floor.

"Ah, what a nice little attribute that must be," he said softly, leaning over slightly and lifting her chin up to finally look her in the eye. "To be able to stare at the ground and have the world around you dissolve into tiny pieces." he added in a whisper.

Her eyes widened behind her glasses, which were now sliding slowly down her nose. He could see himself reflected twice in her light brown eyes. "I - I -," she stammered back, and he took some delight in noticing how badly her hands were shaking.

Their noses were about half an inch away, and he closely inspected every aspect of her face. Every expression. Every freckle... "It must come in useful quite often," he replied. "When Draco Malfoy died, for instance."

Her eyes widened even more. "Don't hurt me," she whispered. "Please, don't hurt me... Please, I'll do anything... I'll - I'll change my appearance and move to Nova Scotia - I'll do anything, but _please don't hurt me_ . . .. I'll never tell anyone who I really am - I'll . . ."

"Shut up," he said sharply, and she did. His throat tightened until he felt he couldn't breathe. One single memory replayed in the only fragment of his mind that hadn't been disrupted. He straightened up, letting go of her face, which was now shiny from tears. And for a fraction of a minute, remorse overpowered him, and he found himself saying something he couldn't ever remember saying. "Don't cry..."

She looked up at him, tears welling up with every passing second. After about quarter of an hour, she said something. "I bet if you tried, you could be a very decent human being."

He chewed his tongue, and headed for the door, turning back to add a last remark. "You'll be allowed out every morning to take a bath, and twice a day for the W.C. - Avery and Macnair will be guarding your room, so don't even think of escape. Charles will bring you your meals, and occasionally I might see - how things are going. And by the way," he paused, sneering at the girl who was crying on the floor. "Lack of trying had nothing to do with it."

He exited, and slammed the door behind him. Then he leaned back against it, the slightly damp and rotten wood cool against his back. "I made her cry," he muttered, putting his face in his hands. "I actually made her cry..."

And that was when he remembered he was supposed to be a man of stubborn and intense dignity, which included the fact that he was NOT susceptible to feelings of guilt and sympathy. "Oh... blast it!" he snapped angrily. "I need a drink..." and with that, he set off to the wine-cellar.

Ginny dried her eyes on the bedcovers. He was quite possibly the most terrifying human being she had ever met. Shaking, she climbed silently back onto the bed, curling up into feeble position. She took her glasses off, and set them on the floor.

She mentally withdrew into her own thoughts - ignoring the dark - ignoring the cold that gnawed ruthlessly at her skin... She closed her eyes, and remembered her summer after her sixth year.

_"Now Ginny," Dr. Lucafont said calmly. "I understand you've recently suffered the loss of a dear friend..." _

_ Ginny didn't answer. She merely stared around at the walls of the psychiatrist's office. Everything in St. Mungo's was white, beige, or cream, and the same was true for the walls in the large room she was in. There was a very pregnant pause, during which Dr. Lucafont drummed his fingers against the white metal desk, and tapped his pencil against a white metal lamp that sat atop it. _

_ "Ginny," Dr. Lucafont repeated. _

_ "Yes," she replied quietly. _

_ "Yes what, Ginny?" _

_ "Yes, dash it all!" she screamed, standing from the white chair she had been sitting in. "Yes! I admit it, alright! He's gone! And I'm not going to do bloody anything to try and get better, you psychoneurotic moron! You can't help me! NO ONE CAN HELP ME!" _

_ At that point, security had been called to take Ginny back to her room. And as they dragged her along the white hallway that was decorated with paintings of white daisies, she heard her next-door-neighbor exclaim proudly, "Well, I may not know who I am yet, but my smile is GORGEOUS!"_

Tears soaked Ginny's pillow, and after what seemed like hours, she slipped into a state of twisted nightmares and horrible memories of the same nature. It was times like these that she wished she wasn't so connected with the Dark. And it was times like these, that she hated Tom Riddle.

Radoc stared emptily into the fireplace, which still had no fire. He took a long drink of the bottle of champagne he had found, and sighed deeply and warily. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, kicking his shoes off. He leaned back into his chair, sighed again, and brushed a stray piece of hair from his face. It was times like these when he just sat, thinking. He had to admit, she was still beautiful. But, beauty didn't count for anything, really. He smiled to himself, thinking of something that required less remembering: The Curses. He had invented six new curses to use on his next victims.

The Repe curse, which tracks things/people. Incantation: _Reperire_

The Containment curse, which imprisons people in a large bubble of electricity. Incantation: _Phylaca_

The Secare curse, which killed someone by slicing 10,000 deep cuts. Incantation: _Mortificare_

The Tie curse, which tied someone in ropes five inches thick. Incantation: _Ligare_

The Screaming curse, which was even more painful that the Cruciatus and Painudum curse put together. Incantation: _Carnificina_

And finally, the Complete curse, which puts you under complete and unbreakable mind control. Incantation: _Mens Gubernare Plenus_

He smiled again at the thought of torture, murder, and imprisonment. He was evil to the core. Or so he thought. But, he finished off the bottle of champagne, folded his arms across his chest, and fell into a deep and uneasy sleep, during which he dreamed of a life before this one - one he had always wondered about . . .


	4. Chapter 3

When the Night Broke - By Hannah Davenport

**When the Night Broke** - By Hannah Davenport

**Summary:** Sequel to "Bent" and "Twisted." Five years later, Ginny is a bored and very depressed employee at Flourish and Blotts. Outside her drawn-in, little world lies an evil overlord of doom by the name of Radoc Lafoym, who is threatening society. How do they relate?

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. It's just fan fiction!

**Work Cited: **Harry Potter Realm

**Chapter Three**

Lord Radoc opened his eyes. The room was quiet, and looked exactly the way it had when he had fallen asleep. He checked a clock over the mantelpiece, and muttered angrily. Fifteen minutes after he had fallen asleep.

He stood, rather stiffly, and put on his bathrobe over his pajamas. He wasn't fond of midnight strolls, but lately they were the only things that could help his insomnia in the least. And as he opened the door, he saw Alexander Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle, standing in the doorway. They looked nervous, yet excited, and Nott had his hand raised, as if to knock.

"What do you want?" Radoc snarled viciously. He didn't like the thought that they had been about to wake him up.

"My Lord," Nott said, lowering a shaking hand. "Are - are you...?"

Radoc raised an eyebrow. Was he psychic? He figured he'd have a little fun. "Yes, Alex," he said darkly. "I am. Now would you please tell me what has given you the notion that you can just traipse on up here and plan on disturbing my sleep?"

"My Lord," Goyle said clumsily. "My Lord - we've got information that will be very pleasing to you... If you can just come with us... we have an informant."

"Well," Radoc sighed. "I suppose that's rather obvious, seeing as how you three can't tell the difference between a sphinx and a dragon. I would expect you to have an 'informant'."

"So, you'll come with us?" Crabbe interrupted, trying to look delighted. The look he ended up getting was not at all pleasant, and Radoc amused himself by wondering if his eyes would be permanently damaged.

"Yes," Radoc snapped. "Just - let me get dressed. Idiots..."

Not five minutes later, he emerged from his chamber, fully dressed in his evil garb. He followed the three of them down several corridors, until he found himself in the dungeon. He was led inside a chamber not far off from hers, and raised an eyebrow at what he saw.

Severus Snape was tied to a chair, glaring around mutinously. He took one look at the Dark Lord, and sneered. "The terror, the terror," he said in a monotone. "Please, someone, save me from this evil former student of mine. I'm afraid he's gone a bit mad."

"Snape," Radoc said calmly, walking a bit closer. "What on earth are you doing in my dungeon?"

"Why don't you ask your slaves, Draco?" he replied venomously.

Radoc was about to acknowledge the name 'mistake', but turned to Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott instead. "What is going on?" he asked sharply.

"We've found them," Nott said excitedly. "The Mirrors of Raef and Erised. And all through the traitor, here."

Radoc turned to his former Professor, and smiled in a demonic sort of way. "So Dumbledore trusted you, did he, Snape?" he asked cheerfully. "He trusted you to tell him where the mirrors were? Well, that was a mistake, now wasn't it? Ah, well, that's alright. I knew the man had to make one of them sooner or later. Where are they?"

"I'm not saying," Snape replied stubbornly. "I don't have to, even if you are the bloody 'Dark Lord'. Just because you can kill me doesn't mean I'm not willing to die to protect the information."

"Oh, but I don't want to kill you, Professor," Radoc began, smiling once more. He pulled his wand out of his pocket, and pointed it right between Snape's eyes. "_Mens Gubernare Plenus!_" he said, and Snape's face went into a very relaxed expression.

"Now Severus," Radoc said sternly. "Where are the mirrors?"

"One is in a hidden closet off the South Tower," he said emptily. "And the other is in - the other is in the Chamber of Secrets..."

Radoc swallowed, and turned to face the three Death Eaters that had brought him this information.

"Nott, Crabbe, Goyle," he said calmly. "Go visit the rest of my - minions. Tell them we have a meeting tomorrow morning at nine o'clock. Breakfast will be provided."

The three of them disapparated, and Radoc turned to look at his former Professor once more. "I knew you'd be a help someday, Professor Snape," he chuckled dryly, presently brushing his hair back from his face. "And now, I do believe I'll lock you up until tomorrow morning."

Ginny awoke to her room being flooded with light. She opened her eyes, and put on her glasses, which were still clasped firmly in her slender hand. Sitting up, she looked around the room, and spotting some things that hadn't been there the night before. A changing curtain, like people used in the old days, a mirror, and a vanity. On the changing curtain, hung a dress with a note pinned to it. She crawled out of bed, and walked over to read the note.

_Miss Weasley, _

_ I am having a breakfast meeting this morning, in exactly one hour. You are to be present, and I will send someone to collect you at the abovementioned time._

What followed was a bunch of fine lettering, which Ginny could only distinguish as his signature. She discarded the note, and finally took a look at the dress. It was a watery, silvery color, with no sleeves and a skirt that went to the knee. Ginny cocked her head to the side, wondering why she had to look so special for a business meeting, and why on earth she had to attend at all. But, she put the dress on, brushed her hair, and sat on her bed - waiting. She waited for what seemed like years, when someone finally came and opened the door. It was Charles, and he looked a bit stiffer than usual.

He lead her out of the small chamber she had been living in, and up a spiraling corridor, which was lined with tapestries and paintings of bloody murder-scenes. She supposed he had these made after every household he mutilated. Trying not to look at them, she soon found herself facing a large black door. She turned to Charles, who was no longer moving.

"Go in," he instructed firmly.

"Aren't you coming with me?" she asked nervously.

He shook his head, and again told her to go into the room. So, she did. The room was even colder than where she had been staying. And to make it even worse, there was an audience of Death Eaters filling most of it. But, there was a podium and two seats next to it, one of which was occupied by - Professor Snape? What on earth could he be doing there? But then she got an idea of what he might be doing there. She remembered Harry and Ron saying something about Professor Snape being a Death Eater once-upon-a-time...

She walked up, and sat next to him, and looked at him. He was pale, and didn't look as composed and ominous as she remembered, but, it was good to see someone she knew after her solitary confinement.

"Hello," she said quietly.

He didn't seem to hear her, but he muttered: "Oh please - just kill me now..."

She decided further conversation wasn't going to go anywhere. But, she had another reason to be quiet, because he had just walked into the room. He stood at the podium, and the look on his face terrified Ginny even more than the time Fred had filled her room with mice that ate each other. Because the look was triumph.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Radoc said brightly. "Our search is over, thanks to Alexander Nott, Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle." Of course, Ginny had no idea what he was talking about, but there was an excited murmur from the masked listeners.

"And with the help of one Professor Severus Snape, we have found the Mirrors. Which is the answer to the question you have all been asking me: why am I keeping Miss Weasley alive? Well, because about eleven years ago, there was a plot to destroy her father's Muggle protection act, and Miss Weasley was the one who was attacking all those people at Hogwarts. She was the one who opened the Chamber of Secrets; and that is where one of the Mirrors is. Now, here is my plan..."

Ginny stopped listening at that point. A large lump had grown in her throat, and her heart seemed to stop. He couldn't have just said that. There was no way... She looked at Professor Snape, who seemed to be listening with rapt attention. He was frowning now. And slowly, the world came back into focus for poor Ginny, and she heard the cold voice of Lord Radoc finishing his speech.

"...And we will all be surrounding the castle. When I give you the signal you will creep in, and attack. Any questions?"

"Er - Master?" a man in the front row stammered. "Master - how exactly will we get into Hogwarts? It is very heavily guarded - and has been ever since you killed that horse-faced pullock Dumbledore..."

"With your tremendous wit, Avery," Radoc replied sarcastically. " I'm sure you'll find a way to outsmart the creatures that are surrounding the castle. I already told you, you idiotic lummox. The things guarding the castle are dragons, and for those of you too thick to listen to me, I'll repeat myself! _Ginny Weasley is a parselmouth, and that language includes DRAGONS!_ Anyone else?"

"Er," the man called Avery said again.

"_Mortificare!_" Radoc shouted, and Avery's robes suddenly turned a violent shade of red. And it wasn't till the man fell over onto the floor that Ginny realized he had just been murdered before her very eyes. Everyone in the masked audience started to laugh - cold, bitter laughs. Ginny felt sick as she watched the man writhe on the floor until his blood was a shallow pool of rust, his foot gave one last twitch, and that was all.

More people began to laugh, and kick the man's body. Ginny screamed - and then fainted.

Radoc sat down in his cushy armchair, a bottle of scotch clasped firmly in his hand. The meeting was over, Ginny was locked safely in her room, and his cronies were busy plotting the tracks they would make for the siege...

And yet he couldn't stop thinking about Ginny's scream. At times he forgot just how much of a childlike innocence she had. That her experience with things like murder were very limited. That she probably didn't even kill bugs. In a way, it made him smile to know that not everyone he knew was corrupted. But it made him feel tingly inside to think that he had just forced her to watch someone die, because he didn't like the man's objections. He took a long drink from the bottle of scotch.

_His soul stretched tight across the skies _

_That fade behind a city block, _

_Or trampled by insistent feet _

_At four and five and six o'clock; _

_And short square fingers stuffing pipes, _

_And evening newspapers, and eyes _

_Assured of certain certainties, _

_The conscience of a blackened street _

_Impatient to assume the world. _

_I am moved by fancies that are curled _

_Around these images, and cling: _

_The notion of some infinitely gentle, _

_Infinitely suffering thing._

The feeling of remorse for making Ginny watch a homicide soon went away. She would have to deal with it if she was going to be his prisoner. And besides, she might have to deal with quite a bit more murder. He smirked. Radoc conjured up another bottle of scotch. A hangover was sure to ensue, but what did he care? It wasn't like anyone worried about his health... Everyone who had heard his name wished him dead.

Ginny opened her eyes. She was back in her room, but there was a strange noise going on. Muttering, it sounded like. She sat up, and saw Professor Snape sitting on the floor with his eyes closed, and saying things to himself.

"Why are you locked up too, Professor?" she asked gently.

He opened his eyes and stopped muttering, looking right at Ginny. "Because of something I did years ago," he replied bitterly, glaring around the room. Now this was the Snape she remembered.

"Well, I'm sorry you've been locked with me," she sighed deeply, rubbing her eyes beneath her glasses. "I can't say you'd enjoy my company..."

"Good heavens - even you think I hate Gryffindor?" he asked abruptly.

"No," she replied quietly. "I never said you hated Gryffindor. You _told_ everyone you hated Gryffindor."

He looked very taken aback. "Lies," he snapped. "Fifty points from Gryffindor!"

"Er, Professor?" she stifled a giggle. "We're not at school, and even if we were, I graduated."

"Right..."

She watched him for a minute more, and then asked the question she had been dying to ask. "Professor, what did the Dark Lord say he was going to do?"

"Well," Snape sighed warily. "There's going to be a siege."

"A siege?" Ginny asked, her voice shaking.

"A large and violent siege, on Monday next."

She swallowed, hardly daring to believe it. Seizing Hogwarts was practically criminal - even if you had just run out of crumpets for your tea and wanted to borrow some. She rubbed her eyes underneath her glasses, and then the bridge of her nose. And that was when she remembered something her mother had said to her once.

"Ginny, there is one thing you have to remember when dealing with difficult people: if they're going to hurt you with anger, kill them with kindness."

She smiled inwardly. She was grateful now that she had listened to her mother's little tidbits of advice. Although she doubted she'd ever need "When you are allergic to something, Ginny, it is best not to put that thing in your mouth. Especially if that thing is cats..." But she opened her eyes once again, and looked right at her old professor, who looked like he were about to have a nervous breakdown.

"Professor," she said timidly. "I think I've just had an idea."

"Oh, really?" he replied demurely. "And what, pray tell, is your brilliant idea, Miss Weasley?"

Radoc didn't remember the next three days, seeing as he was either drinking, or being sick because of his drinking. He was confined to his bed until Tuesday, when he found himself well again, and tortured Nott for letting him drink too much. But there was something else wrong with Lord Radoc Lafoym - he was experiencing a very intense feeling that he hadn't felt in an incredulously long time: deep, deep regret.

Not regret for all the heinous crimes he had committed. But regret for -

"Honestly, I am the biggest idiot in the world sometimes, Charles." he said sharply as he sat in his chair as his manservant attended to whatever he needed (which at the moment was some turkey and a bottle of gin). "I could poke out my eyes with my own wand for not killing that Weasley girl when I had the chance!" He sighed, and buried his face in his hands.

"She is a primary part of your plan, My Lord," Charles replied as he set Radoc's tray in front of him and pulled off his master's boots. "And she is quite pretty..."

"Narcissa is quite pretty, you imbecile," Radoc snarled. "And I'm still trying to kill her! Look what I've done, Charles... Look what I've done..."

Charles poured Radoc his drink and tried to console him, but nothing seemed to be working. Finally, after his thir - (teenth?) -d glass of gin, he spoke.

"Charles," he said, looking up in an agile movement. "Charles, send Crabbe and Goyle for the head of the Dementors, the leader of the vampires, and the chief werewolf..."

Charles hesitated, and Radoc saw a bead of sweat run down the mans pale forehead. "My Lord," he stammered. "You're not thinking of - of -"

"Just for back-up, Charles." Radoc replied with a grim smile. "And tell the rest of them - tell them to get a map ready posthaste, because we leave tomorrow night."

If Charles had any objection to this idea, he didn't show it. For he nodded in silence, and left the room. Radoc, meanwhile, stood from his chair, and crossed the room to his wardrobe. From one of the cupboards that was too small for clothing, he pulled a bottle of ink, a quill, and some parchment. He brought them over to a table, and in handwriting not his own, began to pen a letter.

_Thank heavens for my wonderful chameleon-like skill to adapt in any way..._ he thought lightly - which was the height of happiness for him.

"I refuse." Professor Snape said in a firm and disgusted voice.

"But _why_? Why do you refuse?" Ginny almost screamed. "Being nice doesn't hurt anyone! If anything, it makes people happier than they were in the first place!"

"I would think you of all people would understand, Miss Weasley." Snape replied curtly.

"Understand _what?_" she cried, looking heavenward in exasperation. "Why do you give me an answer that doesn't match the question?!"

He cocked an eyebrow. "You mean your brother and Potter never told you?" he asked, his tone skeptical.

"Told me WHAT?" she shouted, putting what she assumed was a serious strain on her vocal chords. She flopped down on the single chair, and folded her arms across her chest.

Snape's eyes darkened, and he began to roll up one of his sleeves. And in a moment, Ginny saw what he was talking about. On Snape's thin, sallow forearm, was a brand. A brand that put a lump in Ginny's throat and made her eyes widen. She looked up at him, a softened expression on her face.

"You're one of them?" she asked, her voice quavering.

"Was," he snapped, pushing his sleeve back down. "Joined at the age of fifteen." His hands were curled into fists Ginny was sure could knock at least four teeth loose.

"What happened?" she whispered, a sinking feeling in her stomach.

"I quit," he said simply. "Went and told Dumbledore everything. He told me it was alright, and that there was something I could do that would help people to forgive me. I spied."

There was a very long, discomforting pause before anyone spoke again.

"Professor Snape," Ginny began. "would you like a hug?"

He looked at her as though sure she must be joking. "No, thank you, Miss Weasley." he said, his black eyes glittering coldly.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Quite."

"All right, then..." There was another pause. "Now, back to the plan..."

"They're planning on returning me to the castle today," he said, avoiding the subject. "With a memory charm to keep all this information inside my traitorous head. If I remember right, they forced me to tell McGonagall my sister was ill, and that I needed to go and see her."

"I didn't know you had a sister," Ginny said with slight interest.

"I don't," he smirked.

_(Just hours later...)_

"... So as you can see, this plan is one-hundred percent flawless." Radoc looked expectantly at the two people and one evil creature that were standing in his office at present.

"I'm not so sure this plan is what you make it out to be," said a tall, muscular man with ruffled red-brown hair. This man's name was Brutus Carnegie, and technically, he wasn't a man.

"Of course it is," Radoc sighed, feeling more than a bit perturbed. He looked at the other man in his office with something that could either turn into contempt, or rapture.

The other man was also tall, but he was not muscular. He was thin, and had pale, waxy skin. Dark hair, dark eyes, and an ominous smile on his face. "I think it's a wonderful idea," he said, turning from Brutus to Radoc. "Tell me, will there be lots of... opportunity?"

"As many people as you can bite, Claven." Radoc replied, inwardly gagging. Shedding blood was alright for him. But _drinking_ it? Now that was a different story.

Meanwhile, Claven's smile had grown wider. Brutus was rubbing the bridge of his nose in thought. Radoc tried not to look to anxious for their acceptance. After all, he was still 23 years old, and most of the men he worked with were middle-aged. Most didn't take him seriously... Correction: all the ones who hadn't seen his massacres.

"How many of my men would you need?" Brutus asked finally.

"Anywhere from five to ten." Radoc said. "The Forbidden Forrest is an excruciatingly large area of land, and we can't afford to get lost."

"And how about my men?" Claven queried.

"Five, in case someone needs to be reminded where they stand..." Radoc then smiled his twisted, psychotic smile, which meant "Oh, this should be fun."

"I agree," said Brutus, extending his hand to Radoc. "But, what about - er - it?" He pointed to the Dementor with his other hand.

Radoc shook Brutus's hand. "Oh, he and a few of his troops that weren't needed for Azkaban are going to guard the tower while I'm away." He replied in an offhand tone. "Now, you accept as well, Claven?" he asked.

"Of course," Claven said excitedly. "Oh, I can't wait. People. It's going to be delicious..."

He rambled on like that for at least fifteen minutes, before Radoc finally yelled that was enough, and shook the vampire's hand as well.

"Oh, stuff it, you! Do you think it matters whether or not I stuffed my Miggle Worms up your nose?"

"Of course it does! You eedjit!"

Professor McGonagall looked at the yelling children in exasperation. They were two first-years, that had just come from wreaking havoc in the Potions lesson.

She quickly filled her lungs. "BE QUIET, BOTH OF YOU!" she shouted, and they looked at her in amazement and slight admiration for her shouting skills. But before she could continue, an owl fluttered in and dropped a piece of parchment into her hands. "Just one moment," she added, and unrolled the parchment quickly. _Professor McGonagall,_ it began.

I have discovered that the Dark Lord is planning a siege on your noble school in one month. He's filling his ranks with all sorts of horrible creatures... I have to go now.

Sincerely,  
Remus J. Lupin

McGonagall looked at the note in deep thought. Not even noticing that her two delinquents had snuck away. She couldn't evacuate the students. That would cause panic. She would just have to arrange things without the students knowing. Yes. That was it. No one needed to know that The Dark Lord was planning on attacking them. No one needed to know that she was very close to having a nervous breakdown. She put the letter down on the desk, and took a deep breath. Everything was going to be _fine_.

Yeah, right.


	5. Chapter 4

When the Night Broke - By Hannah Davenport

**When the Night Broke** - By Hannah Davenport

**Summary:** Sequel to "Bent" and "Twisted." Five years later, Ginny is a bored and very depressed employee at Flourish and Blotts. Outside her drawn-in, little world lies an evil overlord of doom by the name of Radoc Lafoym, who is threatening society. How do they relate?

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. It's just fan fiction!

**Work Cited: **Harry Potter Realm

**Chapter Four**

The door that led to the back gardens burst open, and Radoc Lafoym came swaggering out into the thick mist that wound around the skeletal black trees and hovered over the dark, overgrown grass. He walked swiftly, his arms folded across his chest, his black coat billowing behind him as he scowled at his scarf, which kept blowing into his face. They day was cold. Frigid, really, and the wind was howling, chips of ice floating around in it. The mist didn't move. It never moved.

He quickened his pace until he arrived in a grove of misshapen trees, where Narcissa was standing next to a simple plank of wood which stuck out of the ground. On it someone had used black ink to write: LUCIUS - R.I.P.

"And just what do you think you are doing out here?" Radoc asked her sharply. "Didn't I order you not to ever come out here again? Well?"

Narcissa turned around, her eyes held a strange look in them. "Pay respects to your father, Draco," she said quietly.

He shoved his pale, spindly hands into the pockets of his coat, and chewed his tongue in anger. "Firstly," he said, pronouncing it very clearly. "It's Radoc. And Secondly, I will not under any circumstances 'pay respects' to my so called father. Never."

She looked at him calmly, put a hand on his shoulder, and sighed. "I'm going to go get ready to leave," she said. And she started walking away. But, after about twelve steps, she turned and said, "Draco, I am really starting to hate you."

Radoc furrowed his brow, and muttered under his breath. He then turned to glare at the makeshift headstone. "I hope you can see what I'm doing, wherever you are." he said to it. "I hope you're proud." He paused, and began to recite something loudly.

_"The whiskey on your breath _

_Could make a small boy dizzy; _

_But I hung on like death: _

_Such waltzing was not easy, _

_We romped until the pans _

_Slid from the kitchen shelf; _

_My mother's countenance _

_Could not unfrown itself. _

_The hand that held my wrist _

_Was battered on one knuckle; _

_At every step you missed _

_My right ear scraped a buckle. _

_You beat time on my head _

_With a palm caked hard by dirt, _

_Then waltzed me off to bed _

_Still clinging to your shirt."_

He then spit contemptuously on the grave, and stalked off, still muttering and pausing to kick something every now and then.

She was hiding under the bed. She had finally thought of Apparation, but found that she got shocked every time, and was still in the same place she had been. Well, she thought ruefully, I suppose it was worth a try...

Why she was hiding under the bed (of all places...) she didn't know. She had remembered hiding there when Fred and George had turned her dolls into skeletons (she had been just six then,) - but couldn't think of why it might be suiting now.

One of the men who had taken Professor Snape away said that at the first available moment, Lord Radoc would come to speak with her. She wanted to avoid that at all costs. So, she was under the bed. Hopefully, she guessed he would think she had managed to beat his security system, and would tear out his hair in frustration. However, hope had not gotten her very far in life.

"You'd think they'd clean in here every once in a while," she muttered to herself, pushing aside a monstrous dust-bunny. She had been talking to herself for two hours, ever since Professor Snape had been taken away. It wasn't that she found bliss in his company... It was that he was someone to talk to, and he talked in the same way Draco used to. Sarcastic, blunt, and hilarious.

"Then again," she continued, rubbing an eye beneath her glasses. "This is a man's tower, and he has ninety-nine out of a hundred servants that are men -"

Her discussion on why men weren't very clean was interrupted, however, by the door opening, and two shiny boots appearing in her range of vision. She held her breath. Praying... wishing...

"Where has she gone?" Radoc said in an excruciatingly obnoxious feign of bewilderment. "Why, there's no closet in here... And she's not behind that chair... She must be -" his face suddenly appeared, cold eyes glinting in amusement - "Under the bed. Now, Miss Weasley, I must congratulate you on your novel, if somewhat stupid, idea, and order you to come out at once."

"I won't." she replied bravely, although she could feel a lump forming in her throat.

"I don't have time for these petty games, Virginia," he said crisply.

"I'm not coming out of my own free will. So unless you can make me..." her voice trailed off weakly. _Oh dear_, she thought sadly.

His pale face disappeared from view, and she heard his voice. "_Elevate_," he said lazily. And the bed went slamming upward into the wall, like one of the beds Muggle children see in old cartoons.

"That won't work, Virginia my dear," he chuckled, extending a hand to help her to her feet.

She took it. It was cold. "Don't call me your dear," she ordered. "That's sick."

"I thought you'd learned by now," he said, raising an eyebrow, and pausing to kiss her hand. "I am sick."

"That is really not funny," she replied seriously, and he chuckled again. "I mean it. Just because you can kidnap me doesn't mean I'll stand here and let you make fun of me."

"Oh, but I'm not making fun of you," he replied, and from the tone of his voice Ginny couldn't tell whether or not he was joking. But, she supposed he was one of those people.

She didn't reply. She merely stood there, vaguely wondering why on earth she was still holding his hand. She supposed that it was psychologically reassuring to have someone with her - even though she was unfortunate enough to have it be him.

"If you would be kind enough to let go of my hand," he said, raising both eyebrows this time, and she did it quickly. "Now, as I'm sure Professor Snape has informed you, there is to be a siege, but it's been moved to tonight. We're leaving at midnight and should arrive on the outskirts of the Hogwarts grounds in about two days. We're traveling on foot, and I was wondering if there was anything you might be needing..."

"No," she replied quietly. She had remembered his plans for her to go back to the Chamber. The Chamber of Secrets... Serpentine columns, the statue of Salazar Slytherin...

"Good," he said, but she barely heard him. She was lost in a reverie of her first year. Her diary entries... She didn't hear him until he leaned in and whispered in her ear. "Don't worry. Tom's not there to haunt you anymore. Tom left a long time ago. Now there's just me; and you can see me, can't you? I'm solid, aren't I?"

"Yes," she mumbled. And for some reason, she found her glasses slipping down her nose as she silently began to cry.

"I thought so," he added, turning back to speaking regularly and stepping away from her. "I thought so..." And with that, he left. Shutting the door slowly, as though trying to trap something in it.

Ginny personally felt as if that something was her soul.

_Two hours later..._

Radoc watched Narcissa carefully as she slept in an armchair. He thought it was amazing that she could still look composed while she slept. And in an armchair, at that. He knew she had been a little off since he had killed Lucius. But, he wasn't about to loose any sleep over it. After all, she hadn't done much for him that he could be grateful for, and see as a symbol of love. No, she and Lucius merely brought him into the world because the purpose of getting married is having children to pass your money onto when you die. At least, that's what it is for the upper-class, inbreeding purebloods.

He sighed deeply, adjusted the collar of his turtleneck, and closed his eyes in a slightly relaxing way. There was a sharp rap on the doorframe. He opened his eyes to see Charles holding Ginny by the scruff of her neck. His other arm was bleeding.

"She bit me, sir," he reported in humiliation.

"It's all right, Charles," he said consolingly, taking a drink of some coffee he had conjured up previously. "Don't feel ashamed. That girl is quite feisty. It's the red hair, I think."

She glared at him, which looked slightly amusing since her glasses were dangling from one ear, and she was hanging at least two feet from the ground.

"Take her into the antechamber, Charles," he added, gesturing towards Narcissa's sleeping form.

His manservant nodded, and began walking away; the arm that held Ginny extended in front of him as though he were carrying a blast-ended-skrewt rather than a hot-tempered girl.

Upon finishing his coffee, he commuted to the antechamber, where he found a very frazzled-looking Ginny, and no sign of Charles. "Why did you bite Charles?" he asked ominously.

"Because I had to do something to vent the frustration you so gallantly lay upon my head!" she shouted, breathing heavily.

"No need for poetics, Virginia," he said in a tone of scolding. "And besides, Charles is our friend. He only wants to help us."

"Since when did I become us?" she asked incredulously. "And since when did Charles become my friend?"

"There is no need to be upset," he added, in a voice he hoped was criminally like her older brother's. The one who had become the Minister of Magic.

"And there is no need to treat me like a child!" she cried, standing up and walking a few paces closer to him. "I am twenty two years old, Mr. Dark Lord, and I think I have the right to a little dignity, don't you?"

He paused, cocked his head to the side, and said, "Why do you call me 'Dark Lord'?"

"What?" she asked, taken aback.

"Why don't you say my name?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest. "Surely as brave a girl as you can say a simple name like Radoc Lafoym." She winced. "After all, you bit Charles, and found the ingenuity to hide under your bed..."

"Er," she began, taking a step backwards.

"What is it that makes you call me something cowards call me?" he continued to question, actually wondering the answer to this question. "Something my servants and people too afraid to admit I'm here call me?" He abolished the short distance there was between them, and paused, smirking. "You're afraid." he said firmly.

"So what if I am?" she retorted curtly. "I'm not about to let you push me around like you did earlier."

This time, he actually smiled. Even if it was a creepy one. Ginny took a step backwards. "I am amazed at your courage to stand up to me, little Weasley," he said sincerely. "People I've murdered haven't even been this brave. They all began pleading for mercy... Little idiots."

He patted her atop her head, and began to walk away, when he heard something like a mutter. He turned, and saw that she was now staring at the ground. Just as he was about to ask her to repeat herself, she said: "Radoc Lafoym."

"Good girl," he smirked, and exited the scene of the crime, so to speak.


	6. Chapter 5 & 6

When the Night Broke - By Hannah Davenport

**When the Night Broke** - By Hannah Davenport

**Summary:** Sequel to "Bent" and "Twisted." Five years later, Ginny is a bored and very depressed employee at Flourish and Blotts. Outside her drawn-in, little world lies an evil overlord of doom by the name of Radoc Lafoym, who is threatening society. How do they relate?

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. It's just fan fiction!

**Work Cited: **Harry Potter Realm

**Chapter Five**

It was raining. As Ginny sloshed through the mud, trying very hard not to fall down, she wondered whether or not this was some sort of hideous nightmare. Everyone in their company was drunk, they wavered as they walked and some even walked into trees. Then they were laughed at, and pulled roughly to their feet so that they could keep going.

She watched Radoc Lafoym carefully. He was drunk as well, but he seemed to be fine. He wasn't blasting anyone to bits, and he hadn't spoken to her since he questioned her about his name.

"Radoc Lafoym," Ginny whispered. The name felt strange as she said it. As though she had said it years and years ago, but it had had a different meaning then.

She looked at him through her rain-streaked glasses, and sighed. He was currently entertaining a group of Death Eaters with a story that ended with blood, mangled bodies, and gore. He was smiling broadly at them, (probably on account of his drunkenness) and didn't seem to care a whit that he was sopping wet.

She brushed her sticky, damp hair from her face, and continued trudging along. She knew it wasn't a nightmare. She knew it was really happening. She wished it weren't. But, at least they weren't doing anything to her. They were letting her live without torture or anything like that.

She eventually lost track of where Radoc was, but everyone was laughing now. Probably jut for the sake of laughing like maniacs. But, after a while, they stopped. The sun was rising then.

They sat around and laughed and joked, and got even more drunk than they already were, but still there was no sign of Radoc Lafoym. He didn't appear again till five at night, and he was normal again.

Rumor around the campfire was that he had been vomiting up alcohol. That he couldn't handle as much as he had tried to. Ginny didn't see why this was such a big deal, but apparently is a horrendous thing not be able to hold your liquor when you're an evil murderer.

She tried to sleep, but something about sleeping in the daytime made her uneasy, and she ended up sitting under a large tree, and reading a book she had taken from one of her fellow travelers. _Dracula_, by Brahm Stoker. It wasn't the most comforting thing, but if she tried to run, she knew she'd probably be severely punished, and she wanted to do all she could to behave herself.

He assumed she didn't know he was awake as well. He guessed she had no idea he was watching her as she read, brushing her fiery hair from her face and rubbing her eyes as she fought off the aching tiredness the night's traveling had brought her. She was still obnoxiously pretty - he had to admit that much. But he quickly shook the thought.

_She's a prisoner, for heaven's sake_, he told himself angrily. But then he calmed down sufficiently, and continued looking at her, somewhat thoughtfully. It was only drizzling now, but her hair was still soaked, and droplets of water ran down her face. It was unnerving to see her sitting there and know what she didn't. To know where Draco had gone... He wondered if he might tell her someday - and couldn't decide.

Why? He couldn't say. Somehow, he just knew it would be the thing that finally broke the wall of courage and faux happiness she had been building these five years. Maybe that wouldn't be so bad... Maybe it would. He had no way of knowing really. He'd have to see how he felt after he got the Mirrors, he supposed. Yes, then he'd have extra space in his head for personal thoughts and feelings. He would wait... He would wait like a spider waits to trap a fly. He smiled contemptuously to himself. The look on her face when they got to the Chamber would be enough to tell him when. He tried to picture it: horrified, transfixed, remembrance, disgust...

Even that would be a beautiful mixture of looks for Ginny Weasley. And with this picture in his mind, he drifted into sleep.

The rest of the journey through the Forbidden Forrest was lead by Brutus and his men. It was darker, quieter, thicker. More suppressed. It was a great relief to finally see the turrets and towers of the school, and many of Radoc's men fell down on the sloping grass and tried to convince him to let them sleep.

"Get off the lawn, idiots." he snapped, and none of them argued. "I swear, sometimes I think I might as well kill you all..."

They all began running up the hills, and sneaking around, looking for places to get in without being noticed. Radoc smirked to himself, and walked up the front steps. He changed into dry clothes with a snap of his fingers, and turned to look at Ginny, who was still at the bottom of the steps, looking puzzled.

"You coming or not?" he asked. As though she had a choice.

"You're just going to - _knock_?" she asked confusedly. "You're just going to walk right up and knock?"

"That's what it looks like," he replied coolly. "Now get up here."

She slowly moved up the stairs, and he casually slicked his hair back. He then raised his fist, and knocked, hard. After a moment, he heard footsteps, and the door creaked open. Professor McGonagall stood there in emerald robes, her mouth wide open and her eyes blinking frantically.

"Hello Professor McGonagall," he said brightly. "You wouldn't mind if we came in, would you? It's terribly wet out here..."

McGonagall didn't answer, and Radoc smiled. He took his wand out, petrified her, and walked in as if the place were his own. Technically, now it was his own. Until he left, that is. Ginny slowly followed him in with an apologetic look at the frozen Professor.

He walked around the entrance hall, gazing up at the ceiling.

"Do you remember what kind of things were done out here, Gin?" he asked. "What kind of people were milling around after meals... What kind of memories those people had here?"

Her response was a kind of choking sound. "Well, I suppose that means you've had enough remembering, then?" he said as he peered behind the grand marble staircase. "All right. Let's go in and announce we're here to the rest of the school. After all, they might appreciate a couple of Halloween visitors. Especially if they're alumnus of the school..."

He swaggered over to the doors of the Great Hall, where much laughing could be heard from the inside. He dragged Ginny behind him. Then, with a quick swish of his wand, the doors shot open with a loud _bang!_ Everyone turned to look at him, and their jaws dropped. He saw Ginny's ears redden as they watched her.

"Hello, children." he said in the same tone he had used on McGonagall. "Having a nice holiday?" There was no answer but stunned silence, so he continued. "I expect you've all heard of me, eh? Well, in case your parents have been protecting your delicate little ears, my name is Radoc Lafoym, and I'm the one that's been heartlessly murdering people. I killed Harry Potter."

There was an ominous pause, where students replaced their looks of surprise with looks of complete horror. Radoc smirked at them, and continued: "I'm sure those of you who read the periodicals have seen this ladies picture," he put his arm around Ginny's waist, and she squirmed. "Well, in the obituary page, that is. Actually, I didn't kill Ginny Weasley. I took her captive. And as much as I hate to brag - oh what do I have to lie to you fools for? I love to brag - but, it was fairly easy to do. Just so you know, no one will be leaving this room. My Death Eaters have surrounded the castle, and anyone they bring to me I will disembowel with a dull screw."

He paused, letting everyone take the threat in. "Good. I'll be here for a week at the least, and I'm sure we'll all get along smashingly."

He still held Ginny as he walked out of the room, and didn't let go until he turned to barricade the door with the marble staircase. He turned to look at her, still smirking dangerously.

"You wouldn't disembowel a child," she said in disbelief.

"I'll let you watch me," he replied calmly. "It should be great fun. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some exploring to do. Must find an office..." He began to walk away, and then turned to face her once again. "And please don't try and run away, Virginia," he added. "Things might get messy if you do. And I hate it when things are messy..."

He started to walk away once more, this time congratulating himself on his wonderful speech, when Ginny spoke again.

"Why do you think I would try and leave?" she asked curiously.

He turned around once again, a bit perturbed that she dared to interrupt his search, but replied nonchalantly. "Doesn't everyone try and run away?" he asked.

"And what have you been running from, Mr. Lafoym?" she continued, walking forward a few steps. "Or are you completely free of the troubles that haunt the rest of us?"

"I'm not running from anything," he replied quite truthfully. "I killed the person I tried to run away from just before you arrived at my tower, Virginia, and I would thank you not to go sticking your nose where it isn't wanted. It might just get cut off." He tweaked her nose lightly.

He was about to start off for the third time, when she once again asked a question. "If you were running from something or someone," she began. "What or who would it be?" He gave her a look, and she added, "I can live without a nose."

"I don't see how it's any of your business," he said, folding his arms. "But, I'll tell you anyway." He pretended to think for a moment. "I'd be running from you and your fool questions," he replied finally. "Now, let me get on with my search for a decent office, girlie, or you'll find yourself wishing I had merely diced your nose." He gave her his most menacing look, which finally made her blanch.

He turned sharply, and strolled away, and he heard her mutter something to the extent of "Self-centered, tyrannical terrorist."

"I heard that," he shouted back. "You ignorant heifer!"

She snapped. That was the only way to describe it. The insult was the straw that broke the camel's back, so to speak, and it the next instant Ginny found herself in a running leap, intending on beating the pulp out of Radoc Lafoym. She knocked him to the floor, and punched every inch of him she could as he tried not to look surprised. Her fist made violent and swift contact with his jaw, which cracked distinctly. But now, he was fighting back - and Ginny had gotten the wind knocked out of her.

She doubled up, gasping for air as Radoc launched another attack. She managed to pin him to the flagstone floor, still panting, but he twisted one of her arms, and reversed the positioning - but she kicked him, which earned her a smack upside the head. They rolled and romped around like this for quite some time, inflicting very painful injuries on one another. Radoc even slammed her against the wall, once. She hit his eye - he elbowed her mouth - she bit his leg - he shouted things which no one should even know, let alone hear - she kicked him where (er, well I think you all know where) - he swore expansively, bit, kicked, hit, slammed, scratched, pinched, and bled, and it was he who finally found himself in the winning position. He had both his hands pressed tightly against her shoulders, so that she was pinned to the flagged stone floor. He was also straddling her, and breathing heavily as his hair fell out of its neat, slicked-back pattern.

For the first time since she had first met this man, Ginny was genuinely scared.

His eyes gleamed blood red, eliminating the bit of gray that had been there previously. His eyebrows were furrowed into a merciless glare, fury bouncing around her in invisible waves. She could feel the tension in his behavior. She could almost hear his murderous thoughts as he stared down at her. He looked positively bloodthirsty.

"Never," he growled, his voice barely above a whisper but still more ominous than any she had every heard. "_Never, ever, ever do that again_. Do you understand me?" he snapped, his voice still smooth as silk. "I will personally gut you if you _ever_ pull something like that again, and it won't be a gutting with any pain killer or anything that has a _mite_ to do with you being asleep for the procedure. _GOT IT?!_" The last sentence echoed around the entrance hall viciously. The snarl in his tone had not gone away.

She knew he meant every word, so she nodded her head. He lifted a hand to wipe some blood that was slowly leaking from his mouth. They were like that for a moment. Bleeding, wounded, silent - until he finally said something that broke it.

"I really hate you, did you know that?"

"What?" Ginny asked, startled. It hurt to breath. She assumed he had broken a couple of her ribs.

"I wish you were dead." he replied, with no hint of embarrassment, or anything other than sheer loathing and anger. It was simply a fact to him. "Now, I really must get to work. Roam around as you like - you can even visit my other prisoners for all I blasted care. Just, leave me alone until I need you."

He got up, wincing, and walked away, truly beginning to search for his headquarters. The only sound Ginny could hear was the hollow _clomp clomp_ sound his boots made as he walked away, her own heavy breathing, and the sound of her heartbeat, which seemed to be having trouble slowing down, and she was sure he could probably hear it in whatever corridor he was walking through now.

"I hate you too," she said, feeling very strange. She had never felt this way before. Like she ultimately wanted to kill... "I hate you, and unlike some people, I have a very good reason!" She turned to look at him, and saw that he was turned around, but this time with a look of amusement in his cold red eyes.

"You couldn't hate anyone," he said matter-of-factly. "You don't have it in you. And besides, everyone hates me. Do you really think it'll matter if one pathetic little girl joins in?" He sounded ready to burst out laughing, now. "You've got a peculiar mind, Virginia," he said, starting back up with the angry, evil, sadistic edge in his voice. "It doesn't work like it should, I think."

He actually walked away this time, giving off the air that he was the supreme ruler of the universe. Part of the feeling she had been experiencing ebbed away, but the part that lingered on was the part that scared her most. Because she didn't know what it was.

She began to shake violently. His eyes had been enough to start that.

"...Give them that message, will you Charles?" Radoc asked sternly, jotting something down on a piece of parchment.

"Yes, My Lord."

"Good, good, good..." Radoc looked out the window, and sighed. He was still in a bit of pain, but he didn't see how that was happening. After magic and two days, things were supposed to _heal_.

"And get Macnair to follow Ginny - just to make sure she isn't devising a way to escape. And then have the rest of them bring the vampires into the Great Hall, to give the students and staff a sufficient scare... To remind them what I can do with the snap of my fingers..."

"Yes, My Lord."

"Thank you, Charles. Now get out of my sight."

Charles left to give everyone their messages, and Radoc looked around the office, sneering inwardly. Contrary to the suggestions of his followers, Radoc had chosen a large office in the East wing of the school. It was easier to perform punishments here than in a tight, closed up space. There was a knock on the door.

"What do you want?" Radoc snapped angrily.

"Um, sir?" It was a small voice. Barely above a squeak. "We've had a - er - a bit of trouble with the Vampires, sir."

"And what might that be?" Radoc questioned, feeling angrier by the minute.

"They're eating students." came the small reply.

"What is your point?" Radoc yelled. "_They're only students!_ Get back to work, idiot!"

"Oh..."

"Honestly." Radoc spat at the door. "Look, I know you're only beginning Mr. Locke, but you need to get your act together. Who is it that converted you?"

"Ah - erm - Mortimer Lestrange, your Lordship." came the reply.

"Well, tell old Morty to get his fat rump in here. I need to talk to him about your training program."

"Of course, My Lord."

He heard scampering feet, and he sighed once more, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I am surrounded by morons," he muttered to himself. "Babbling morons."

Ginny sat in the library, reading a book she had found called _Wandless Spells: When Your Wand's Out of Whack_. It had pages and pages of spells you could do without a wand, but most of them weren't very helpful. They were mostly for people who wanted to cook, clean, and other things that would never be helpful for escaping from a madman. She closed the book and sighed.

"They're going to get the first mirror tonight," she said quietly. "Why can't I find something useful?"

_Maybe you're cursed,_ said a voice in the back of her head. _You know, you are cursed when it comes to men. You always seem to fall for the evil ones._

"Excuse me?" Ginny said aloud.

_First there was Tom, and then Draco, and now Radoc. My, my, you are a naughty girl._

"Oh, blast." she said quietly. "Oh, blast. Oh, blast. I'm not in love with Radoc Lafoym, now get out of my head."

_If you say so, said the voice. I won't speak, but I'll still be here._

"Good," she muttered. "Just my luck. Why does _everything_ happen to me?"


	7. Chapter 7

When the Night Broke - By Hannah Davenport

**When the Night Broke** - By Hannah Davenport

**Summary:** Sequel to "Bent" and "Twisted." Five years later, Ginny is a bored and very depressed employee at Flourish and Blotts. Outside her drawn-in, little world lies an evil overlord of doom by the name of Radoc Lafoym, who is threatening society. How do they relate?

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. It's just fan fiction!

**Work Cited: **Harry Potter Realm

**Chapter Seven**

It was a beautiful room. Very well constructed, with a shimmering quality about the walls. He wasn't surprised. He guessed this room had been put together for the very purpose of holding the Mirror of Erised. It made more sense that way - for, why on earth would someone create a room this intricate to hold unimportant teaching junk?

He peered around, his hands behind his back in classic, businesslike position. There were no windows, and no candles. But the walls seemed to hold some sort of light of their own. There was also no mirror to be seen. He smirked, raising an eyebrow predictably.

"I have to search for it," he said to no one in particular. "How clichéd."

He immediately began looking under, around, behind, and above the things in the room. Chairs, desks, blackboards, etcetera. Then he checked for loose bricks in the floor. He performed a spell to see if the mirror had been Transfigured into another object - a small marble, perhaps - but found no luck there, either. He checked all the stones in the wall as well, but found no secret passageway or trapdoor.

"I've done everything in my power..." he muttered, looking perplexedly around the room. It wasn't an expression he wore often.

_But if there's a secret passageway,_ a voice in his head said. _It's going to be secret. What do secret passageways look like?_

"Anything," he replied to himself.

_Then there are hundreds of things that could be secret passageways in here, that you still haven't checked!_

His eyes seemed to focus on one thing, in particular. A pair of triangular glasses were sitting in a corner, the lenses cracked. Getting an idea, he walked over to them, bent down, and picked them up.

They were attached to a metal rod, which came out of a small hole in the floor as he lifted them. Slowly - one by one - the bricks beneath his feet began to tremble, and then disintegrate - and he found himself falling down into darkness so black it felt as though he had been enveloped in soot, tar, lava rock, coal, and black paint.

He smiled broadly to himself. He was at home in this kind of atmosphere.

There was nothing in _Wands: Who Needs 'Em?_ or in _Quick Spells for the Weary and Wandless_. Ginny supposed these books had all been written by people who wanted to be impressive and extravagant, and wondered how many people like that the world could hold.

She sighed, and closed _Spells to Use When Your Wand is Cracked, Twisted, and Hopelessly Broken._

"I just don't understand," she said quietly. "Why is there nothing that can help me? It's almost as if they took away all the books I need, because I'm supposed to stay here. But I don't want to stay here!" She sighed again, and put her head down on the table.

"Looking for something?" said a voice.

She sat up immediately, and looked around. She saw who had spoken, and what she was looking for... although it was a very unappetizing situation in which she now found herself.

_Clomp...Thump!_

He landed on the floor, crouched in a panther-like position, and looked around. This room was completely opposite from the first one. There were candles in brackets on the walls, and the room was dusty and grayish-looking. But, he found what he was after immediately.

There, in a far corner, was a large black tarp. Except, it had fallen off of one corner of the thing it was covering.

"Oh, they'll _never_ guess it's under the tarp, Dumbledore..." he muttered wryly.

He walked forward, not bothering with any of the traditional sighs of awe and wonderment or bowing before it. It wasn't a god, and not all traditional things are worthwhile, he reasoned.

When he reached it, he pulled out one wand, and levitated it into the middle of the room. And then, he removed the cover, and stepped before it.

What he saw was unexplainable.

"Who are you?" she asked, although she already knew the answer.

The tall, thin man folded his arms, and raised a black eyebrow. He looked slightly disappointed. "You don't know?" he asked, his very shiny eyes looked intrigued. There was a pause. He sighed, and bowed deeply, so that his forehead almost touched the ground. "Mortimer Lestrange, Madam," he said calmly, although Ginny could tell he was perturbed.

She glanced briefly at he book he had in his clutches _Wands are for Squares_. "Why are you here?" she continued to question, feeling her hands shake and hiding them behind her chair.

"Well," Mortimer Lestrange began, walking forward and sitting down across from her. "I was actually on my way to visit an old friend of mine down in the Great Hall..."

Ginny swallowed. It had to be Professor Snape, and you never knew what "a little visit" could mean...

"...But I heard you talking, and I thought 'Well, I can delay my visit to see what our prisoner is doing,' and now I'm very glad I have." He smiled wickedly, looking at the titles of the books scattered across the table. "Thinking of escape, are you, young Weasley?"

"Perhaps," she replied, in a tone much braver than she felt at the moment.

"Aah, defiance." he chuckled. "Yes, there seemed to be a lot of that in that - ah - _wrestling match _you and my boss got into, eh?" He said this quite matter-of-factly.

"Did you see?" she asked, feeling a bit nervous now. If this man had viewed that and not gotten his head knocked off by Radoc Lafoym... This wasn't good.

"No," he replied. "Radoc told me. Great - er - _friends_, he and I."

Even worse.

He was looking at his reflection - but it wasn't _his_ reflection. But it was... This was all very puzzling to him, and he stepped away quicker than he had stepped forward. The surface of the mirror was once again blank. He leaned toward it slightly, and once again saw the reflection that belonged to him, but wasn't him. He moved back, and looked at the mirror's frame.

It was gold, ornate, and dusty, which he had expected. And there was also the engraving people had talked about. The engraving that made no sense to anyone who had viewed this mirror. But it made sense to him.

_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi ... I show not your face but your hearts desire._

"Clever," he mumbled. "Mirror writing on a mirror frame. Very Clever indeed... But what about this hearts desire bit? Do they mean deepest, or simply one you let everyone know?"

He took another look at his reflection, and answered that question. Then, quite suddenly, he got another brilliant idea. All he had to know was what she wanted most in the world. After all, if you knew someone's deepest, most desperate desire, you very nearly controlled them. It was all so simple...

Mortimer Lestrange glanced at a pocket-watch he had pulled from the pocket of his vest.

"I'd better be going," he said swiftly. "They should have restricted the vampires by now... They were having a bit of a snack, I guess."

Ginny distinctly felt her stomach lurch. _How disgustingly cruel..._ she thought bitterly.

"But I'll just leave you this, shall I?" he added, dropping _Wands are for Squares_ on the table in front of her. "Just, don't tell old Radoc, alright?"

She nodded numbly, taking the book into her hands, and he strode out of the library at a very quick pace.

She didn't know why he would give her a book that might help her, but Ginny decided she might as well give it a try. So she opened it to the Table of Contents, and read:

_Introduction...i _

_Chapter one: Cooking Spells...1 _

_Chapter two: Repair Spells...45 _

_Chapter three: Childcare Spells...68 _

_Chapter four: Sewing Spells...106 _

_Chapter five: Gardening Spells...134 _

_Chapter six: Beauty Spells...193 _

_Chapter seven: Miscellaneous...267 _

_Author's Note...359_

She quickly flipped to page 267, and searched the pages for something that might be useful. And then she stopped at page 299, which had the heading SPELLS FOR ODD AND TRICKY SITUATIONS. But, from then to page 348 was torn out except for page headers, and Ginny vaguely wondered how on earth she had managed to get her hopes up.

"Mortimer likes strange tricks like that, you must understand."

She jumped, and found Radoc standing behind her, leaning against a bookcase.

"What are you doing here?" she asked sharply.

"You need to come with me, Virginia." he said quietly. "There's something you need to see."

"What is it?" she continued. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what I'm getting into."

She was really beginning to get on his nerves. "Just come with me, before I have to stun you," he snapped, stepping towards her.

"Okay," she squeaked, cowering.

He realized his hand was raised and ready to strike her if she refused. He put it down quickly, and swept out of the library, first making sure that she was following him. He led her back to his office, and once she had entered, he closed the door with the wave of his hand.

"Please, sit down," he said, gesturing towards a chair in front of his desk. She sat, and he paced the floor behind his desk.

"What is this about?" she asked timidly.

He stopped pacing, and sat down in his chair, kicking his feet onto the desk so that his shiny black Oxfords glinted in the dim light of the room.

"What do you want?" he asked, looking at her intently.

"Excuse me?" she replied, her eyebrows raising.

"What do you _want_?" he repeated. "What do you wish for more than anything else in the world? What is your deepest, most heart-felt desire for this life?"

She looked at him, her eyebrows still raised and her glasses sitting crookedly on the bridge of her nose. "_Why?_" she asked suspiciously.

He sighed, and snapped his fingers. Two men brought in the Mirror of Erised, and set it in the middle of the room, facing Radoc, but he didn't look at its surface. He got up from his chair, and stood to one side of it.

"Get over here," he said calmly.

She did, but she was looking at him rather than at the mirror. "What on earth is this?" she asked in a small voice, as though she knew already.

"You'd know, if you looked at it." he quipped, still standing safely to one side.

She turned to look at the mirror, taking the hint, and gasped. He crossed slowly behind her, then checked that his wand was inside his robes, and stepped forward. He put his hands on her shoulders. She shivered.

"I have a proposition for you," he said, a cruel smile on his face.

"And what might that be?" she asked, staring, transfixed, at the mirror. Because there was no way this could be possible. No way at all...

"Join me," he said firmly, increasing the pressure on her shoulders. "And I will make whatever you see in there happen."

She scraped up all that was left of her resolution, and turned to face him. "What?" she asked, feeling of two minds. On the one hand, she was horrified and disgusted that he thought she would join him. And on the other, she was completely bedazzled by the thought that what she saw might come true.

"It won't be a king and queen organization," he reassured her. "But, you really should consider what will happen if you refuse me, and if you accept me."

"What?" she repeated, feeling that she could barely say anything else.

"Well, if you refuse, you die," he stated quite plainly, giving her a rather appraising look. "But, what good will that do? Countless others have died at my hands, and after you, countless others will _continue_ that grand process. What does that do for you, or the rest of the world? You'll just be another dead body lying six feet underground, a simple comma in the book of history."

She took a moment to digest this little speech, her ears ringing with Radoc's words. Death. Well, that was an interesting conception. Up till now, she hadn't thought about it much, only the occasional whispered prayer that Mr. Lafoym wouldn't kill her. But, she remembered, Draco was dead. She could die and go and be with him...

"But if you accept," he said, his cold voice dropping to a whisper as he took a step closer. "Well then, little girl, you'll have everything you could possibly want out of your dull, bitter, pessimistic life. You'll have friends, you'll have the finest vodka that can be conjured, you'll have someone to obey and worship, and you'll have your beloved Malfoy back. I realize this may not be a paradisiacal option," he added, looking right at her, his hands still firmly on her shoulders. "But if faced with these two choices, death or power, I would say the latter would be the most fulfilling."

"That's because you're evil..." she whispered back, unaware of why they were whispering.

"Point taken," he smirked. "You would probably die rather than serve me. That way, you could go and live in wherever it is you two would after death." He paused, leaning down so that he and she were eye-level. "But you have to remember you can't get married or have children when you're dead."

She looked back into his cold gray eyes, feeling almost guilty. Her mind was now a jumble of thoughts, ideas that had been pressed on her since she was small. And also new ones that had recently been shoved through her ear and gotten stuck halfway through her brain's processing of them. The gray of his eyes had found its way into her mind, and now she couldn't tell the difference between right and wrong, stupid and clever, creepy and friendly, and all those other things she would need so badly in this situation.

She couldn't win on physical force. That much she knew. She needed brainpower, and a scheme... But that looked unattainable.

"Sleep on it," he insisted, still in a whisper. "I'm sure you'll come to your senses. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to make preparations for tomorrow's expedition. We'll need you in the entrance hall at half-past nine."

And with that, he straightened, finally let go of her shoulders, and walked to the door. He paused, his hand on the doorknob, and turned to face her once again. "I'll just leave you two to visit," he added, in a way that suggested understanding, and a sneer.

And it didn't help to unboggle Ginny's brain.

_Delicate mind. Unpolluted memory. Pure intent. Kind heart. Intricately intelligent._

"Radoc?"

He quickly crumbled the piece of paper he was writing on, and looked up to see who had spoken. It was Mortimer Lestrange, looking anxious, which was very rarely a good thing.

"Is everything ready?" Radoc asked, staring hard at the man in the doorway.

"Um, ye - yes." Mortimer replied carefully. "The Death Eaters have gathered in the Great Hall for a torture session - apparently some of the students survived the Vampire attack. I was just going to join them, when I realized Miss Weasley was in the entrance hall waiting for you. So I told her I would just come up here and... What is the matter with you?"

Radoc sighed, standing up. "This is getting very boring to me," he lied smoothly. "I'm going to try and get this over with as soon as possible, and then we'll move on to a bigger project, like mass Muggle and Muggle-born killings. You still have those lists, I assume?"

"Er, yes..."

"Good, good. Well, I'd best be off. I'd hate to leave precious little Virginia alone for too long," he said. "Something bad could happen." His definition of bad was something he didn't want.

He made his way to the entrance hall, apprehension ethereally floating through his brain. And when he finally got there and saw her, he nearly had a heart attack.

She was wearing some Gryffindor robes, for one thing. And for another, she was poking Macnair in the chest and shouting at him viciously. Radoc was very reluctant to take even a step closer, because of _what_ she was screaming.

"And although I can't imagine it, _you_ were a child once, too! How would YOU feel if someone came in and beat you for _no imaginable reason_! Barbaric! All of you are so - _so_ - there's not even a word horrible and revolting enough for you! You're all _filthy scoundrels_, and may you all die a prolonged and _very painful_ death when my brother catches you!"

He approached with caution. "Walden," he said, raising an eyebrow. "Are you simply going to stand here and take this? She's only a girl..."

"You're all _vile, foul, disgusting, horrible -_"

She stopped, because Radoc had taken the arm with the prodding finger, and twisted it behind her back. She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, and he was dangerously close to her now, which might have been part of her silence.

"Now, now..." he said. "It's this kind of behavior that causes heart failure, or popped arteries..." There was a long pause. "Well, shall we get going?" he asked her. She didn't reply. "All right." He let go of her. "Lead the way, Virginia."


	8. Chapter 8

When the Night Broke - By Hannah Davenport

**When the Night Broke** - By Hannah Davenport

**Summary:** Sequel to "Bent" and "Twisted." Five years later, Ginny is a bored and very depressed employee at Flourish and Blotts. Outside her drawn-in, little world lies an evil overlord of doom by the name of Radoc Lafoym, who is threatening society. How do they relate?

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. It's just fan fiction!

**Work Cited: **Harry Potter Realm

**Chapter Eight**

"A girl's toilet?"

"Yes."

"A girl's _toilet_?"

She looked at him blankly. "Tell me a single reason I have to lie to you," she insisted. "And if you can think of a realistic and somewhat possible one, you can feel free to put the Veritas Curse on me."

She watched him raise an eyebrow in thought, and after a split second he said: "While you were berating Mr. Macnair, you managed to swipe his wand, and you're waiting to lure me into a dead-end so you can stupefy me and you can run."

She folded her arms across her chest. "But if that was my plan," she replied, "why wouldn't I just do the whole world a favor and kill you?"

He laughed. Hard, as if she had just made a joke. "_Kill_ me?" he chuckled, after he had caught his breath. "You couldn't kill anyone, let alone _me_."

"Then how could I do something like stealing?" she retorted. And with that, she opened the door - ignoring most of her feelings of fear and dread.

"What on earth do you think you're doing here?"

Ginny turned, to see Moaning Myrtle (unfortunately just as she was remembered) floating by one of the stalls. Myrtle looked extremely surprised to see anyone in this particular bathroom, not to mention a graduate of the school.

"Er, hello, Myrtle." Ginny replied, feeling slightly annoyed that she and Radoc had company, especially in this situation. "Say, did you know the seventh-year boys are all skinny dipping in the lake?" No more needed to be said, obviously. Myrtle was off like a rocket, and Ginny approached the sinks while Radoc looked around the forgotten lavatory.

"Even the _abandoned_ girls bathrooms are in better condition than the boys..." he said slowly, walking in circles as he inspected the place.

The serpent inscribed on the sink tap looked as she remembered, as well. She really wished that something - _anything_ - had changed. But, alas, all was the same - if a bit dustier. She took a deep breath as more blurred memories came flooding back, and hissed, "Blast it all..."

The sink opened up into the slide-like pipe, and she closed her eyes briefly. Radoc came up behind her, watched the sink until it was completely done changing, and smiled. "After you, Virginia."

"I can't."

He looked at her, his eyes red from the dust that clouded around them. "What do you mean, you can't?" he growled, feeling extremely frustrated and anxious.

"I can't is what I mean," she whispered, taking a deep breath. "If I go any further, I'll..."

He gave her a fairly stressed look. She looked back, tears of trepidation flooding down her face. "Listen," he said austerely. "you're going to open that blasted door, or suffer the consequences." Then he bit his tongue. _Or suffer the consequences . . ._ he thought angrily. _Could I say something that was any _more _clichéd?_

She continued looking at him for a moment, then nodded weakly and proceeded to open the door.

She hissed something - the doors slid open, and the two of them walked into the Chamber of Secrets, their eyes wide, and their nostrils full of the smell of mildew and moss as water dripped from the ceiling.

"It's..." he began, but words failed him momentarily.

"Oh dear," Ginny gasped.

"It's marvelous... Magnificent..." he finished, completely in awe of the dank chamber and its watery mists, which were making him somewhat damp. He turned to look at his guide.

She was kneeling on the stone ground, shaking madly, just inches away from a gigantic decayed body, half of which was bone, the other half mangled scales. Ginny's eyes were wide behind her glasses, and her freckled face was overcome with pallor.

"I think I'm going to be sick," she said quietly.

"Oh, come now," he chuckled, kicking the carcass of the giant snake. "It's not that bad."

She choked back a sob in reply, covering her mouth with her hands.

A long, awkward pause.

"Well, I'm going to look for the mirror, now." he pronounced finally. Pause. "Er... want to come?"

No answer. "Well then, I guess I'll be going..."

He began to walk away, when he heard a frantic shuffling noise, and he turned to see her walking beside him. Once again, he raised an eyebrow.

"Even though I hate you," she whispered, "I can't be alone in here."

"It's horrible," she shuddered, her eyes unable to move from the dark thing in the corner.

The Mirror of Raef consisted of a large, jet-black marble frame, that was embedded with emeralds. It was even more ornately and exquisitely carved that the Mirror of Erised. And as for the mirror itself, the actual reflecting surface... It was almost as black as the frame. And around the top, in sunken, gray lettering was the following statement.

_Raef ts rowsdn imru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_

"Glorious, isn't it?" he whispered, his fingers brushing the frame gently. Ginny shivered. "Why don't you come and have a look? You know you want to..." There was a very tempting look in his eyes. Something that suggested that whatever she did from now on would be perfectly alright with him. A look reminiscent of Tom.

She went and had a look before she could stop herself.

The Mirror was out of the Chamber of Secrets. It and its counterpart were currently being stored in an empty antechamber, startling no one and causing no harm. As for Ginny - she was unconscious in Lord Radoc's arms. It was a rather strange story, how she had come to be unconscious, and also in his arms. A strange story which really can be summed up with a single sentence: She fainted, he caught her, and hadn't let go of her since.

He simply watched her. He watched her chest rise and fall rhythmically as she took a breath, and let it go. He watched her eyes flutter as she envisioned something subconsciously. He watched her hands laying lightly on her stomach. He watched her hair falling across her face. He watched her, sleeping in his arms, wearing Gryffindor robes, and looking inquisitive although she wasn't awake.

It was somewhat familiar to him.

The door burst open, and a panting Charles ran into the room, looking quite as though he were about to die.

"My Lord," he gasped, his eyes wide. "My Lord -"

"Charles, I thought I told you not to disturb me,"

"My Lord, the Ministry has found us..."

Radoc's heart seemed to stop. He got Ginny off of him, and put her down on the sofa, his eyes almost as large as his manservant's. "They've found us?" he whispered, almost as though it were a statement. "Charles, go and get Narcissa this very instant. They can't Apparate here - we still have some time..."

He distractedly ran his fingers through his hair, staring around the office as Charles sprinted out the door. He had failed. He had failed himself, he had failed his followers, he had failed his stupid idiot of a father, he had failed everything that had every been planned for him. And all because of his mother.

The anger welled up inside him like a hundred black balloons, burning like the fires of Hades. His innards seemed to be filled with poison as they too began to burn, making him feel nauseous and extremely violent. Once again, he had failed at his goal. There was nothing left to do. He would be caught by the Ministry, sent to Azkaban, and probably executed. His life would be over. The balloons multiplied, inflating him with every sort of malice and vengeance a single human mind can be possessed of. His eyes flashed a deep, blood red.

Narcissa was led into the room by Charles. She looked criminally triumphant. But the triumph vanished like a second when she saw her sons eyes.

"Draco," she said quietly. "I - I..."

"You know," he said, sighing dramatically. "I don't think you were aiming for death when you went to the Ministry. But, that's just too bad. _Mortificare!_"

She was dead in under a minute, and Radoc sent Charles to dispose of her body. His attention turned back to Ginny. She looked lovely. Peaceful. Happy, almost. It literally killed him. He needed her to be pained. He knew what would happen when he was caught. The news would go wild, and he wasn't about to go through that by himself. He had done enough alone.

He quickly went to see how far away his pursuers were. Then he devised a plan for sweet Virginia, and got to packing.

Ginny opened her eyes, and sat up. Radoc was scurrying around the room, taking anything he could stuff into his pockets or his bag, which was slung over his shoulder. At the sound of her awakening, he stopped, and turned around.

"Are you awake enough to walk?" he asked quickly.

"Yes - "

"Then come with me," he almost yelled, bursting out of the room before she could answer.

She followed his ridiculous pace, almost at his heels. They walked, and walked, and walked until they reached the top of what was once the marble staircase in the entrance hall. He took a few deep breaths, set his bag down, and turned to her, a very odd look on his face.

"Have you decided yet?" he asked, in a tone of voice that suggested poison was slowly spreading through his veins. "If you'll join me, that is..."

She stared at him. He took a few steps closer. "I... won't," she said shakily, feeling her heart stop as his expression changed, and, he walked even closer.

"I thought that's what you'd say," he sighed. "But I just wanted to tell you... You are obnoxiously pretty."

_Uh oh_, she thought, her stomach sinking.

"...And as we probably won't be seeing each other ever again," he continued. "I thought it would only be proper to say farewell. After all, someone like yourself deserves it."

_Oh, good heavens..._

He diminished the remaining distance between the two of them, and kissed her, his hands holding the sides of her face. And it was a painful kiss. It was torture. She was beginning to think he wanted it to hurt, and that it was probably causing him some kind of sick pleasure to hurt her in this particular way. She decided she wouldn't be surprised if she was bruised from the pressure.

And yet she couldn't explain why she wasn't doing anything about it.

Percy Weasley strode up to the front doors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, ten hit-wizards and a _Daily Prophet_ photographer at his heels. He turned to face them, readjusting his spectacles.

"Now, on the count of two," he told them sternly, "we shall burst in there, arrest the crazy fiend, and march everyone off to the office building where they will be interviewed, and shipped off to Azkaban while we work out a trial for the ringleader. Clear?"

They all nodded.

"Good." Percy smiled to himself. Revenge was a very wonderful thing. He kicked the door open after silently counting to two, and walked into the entrance hall. He was ready to avenge the death of his sister, who - who was making out with the Dark Lord.

The _Daily Prophet_ photographer went mad, filling the area behind them with blue smoke from his camera.

Percy's jaw dropped. "_GINNY?!_" he shouted, his heart stopping.

He let go of her, and she stepped back at the sound of her brother's horrified voice. She peered down to where the staircase once was, and saw Percy standing there, his face as red as a very ripe tomato, and his expression one of murder.

"I'm sure you'll enjoy your publicity from now on as much as I will," Radoc smirked, and moved closer to the edge of the floor. "Hello, Minister," he said to Percy. "Nice to see you. And I'm very pleased to see you've brought hit-wizards..."

His jovial voice faded behind Ginny's own thoughts as she realized what he had just done to her.

_Three weeks later . . ._

It was somewhat like a cell, the room in which he was to meet his defense attorney. It was gray, with one reverse window, and a very large, very thick steel door. With a padlock.

He ran his hands though his disheveled silvery hair, and wiped them on his gray robes. They didn't exactly promote bathing in Azkaban Prison, and it disgusted him to even look at his once dignified reflection in the mirror/window on the wall. He knew people were watching him from the other side. It was disconcerting.

The door, after several metallic noises, slowly opened. And a man, about thirty years of age, walked in. He was very tall, rather thin, and had an expression on his face that reminded Radoc of a man he had seen on a greeting card when he was very small. It was an expression of sympathy.

"Hello, Mr. Lafoym," the man said, in a voice almost as kindly as his expression. "My name is Xerxes Fitch. I'm your defense attorney."

"How much are they paying you to take the case?" Radoc asked, looking Mr. Fitch over.

"Mr. Lafoym?" Mr. Fitch said, raising an eyebrow.

"Because," Radoc continued. "you might as well quit now. I'd rather die than be declared innocent."

Mr. Fitch looked at Radoc carefully, and made a gesture for the people behind the window to leave. "And why is that?" he asked, taking a seat across from Radoc at the gray table. "I'm sure you have something to live for. Family, friends . . . a girl, perhaps?"

There was a long pause. "You flatter me with any misconception concerning friends," Radoc replied. "I have no mother, father, aunts, uncles, siblings, or cousins; thank heavens. And as for a girl . . ." he sighed. "She would rather gouge her eyes out with a fountain pen than look at me with affection. If you let me die you will not only be doing society a favor, but myself, as well."

"Radoc," Mr. Fitch said. "If we win the case, I will help you fix your life. We can find you a house in a secluded area so that you can be alone... In fact, there is an entire Wizarding community in Australia that is dedicated to privacy and peace . . . We could get you a small house there, perhaps even a pet . . . . I swear that you will never be bothered again, as long as you tell me how you got to be like you are now." He set a small metal box down on the table. "Mr. Lafoym, would you please tell me how all of your villainy has come to pass?"

Radoc sighed, and ran his fingers through his nasty hair once more.

Ginny had not left the house. At all. Reporters were skulking around The Burrow, and had been ever since those pictures had been published. There were headlines like _Weasley Not Missing! Quite Found, Actually . . ._ and _Weasley + Lafoym! Fiery Pictures Inside!_

Life was nothing short of torture for Ginny Weasley. Her parents had to board the first floor windows up so that no one could get any pictures. And even then she had taken to only visiting the kitchen during mealtimes, just in case.

She wanted to die. Which she was positive Radoc had been aiming for.

"Radoc Lafoym, you are being held here, in front of the jury and the Minister of Magic to be tried for various crimes against the country. How do you plead?" Neville Longbottom looked at Radoc with a rather pinched expression.

_They're making this very Muggle_, Radoc thought to himself. "I plead guilty, sir," he replied. "but my attorney over here has something to say . . ."

Mr. Fitch stood up, paper in his hands. "Minister, Mr. Longbottom, what I have in my hands is the transcript for a meeting I had with Mr. Lafoym. As you all know, you have sworn yourselves to secrecy on this subject, as what follows is Mr. Lafoym's private business." There was a murmur of subdued agreement from the jury. Mr. Fitch set the papers down on the table, where an image of Mr. Lafoym and himself appeared.

"Mr. Lafoym," said the hologram Mr. Fitch. "Would you please tell me how all of your villainy has come to pass?"

Radoc smiled to himself as he watched himself and heard his own voice answer: "Firstly, Mr. Fitch, it's not Mr. Lafoym. It's Mr. Malfoy . . ."


	9. Chapter 9

When the Night Broke - By Hannah Davenport

**When the Night Broke** - By Hannah Davenport

**Summary:** Sequel to "Bent" and "Twisted." Five years later, Ginny is a bored and very depressed employee at Flourish and Blotts. Outside her drawn-in, little world lies an evil overlord of doom by the name of Radoc Lafoym, who is threatening society. How do they relate?

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. It's just fan fiction!

**Work Cited: **Harry Potter Realm

**Chapter Nine**

The sun rose slowly over the Burrow - and over all the reporters that were trying to sneak up to the fourth floor window. Ginny carefully peered out her window, hidden well by her curtains, and sighed deeply.

"I hate him," she said distractedly. "I _hate_ him. What kind of sadistic man would -" she stopped in the middle of her question, answering it inside her head. The question had been "What kind of sadistic man would give this kind of publicity to someone he kidnapped, tormented, and almost killed?" The answer was, "His kind . . ."

"I don't even see why he did that," she continued, referring to their rather disconcerting physical contact. "It's not as though he feels anything for me . . . At least, not _that_ thing,"

_You sound as though you wish the opposite_, said the voice in her head.

"I don't," she answered herself angrily. "He's an evil man, and I would never take any sort of interest in him... Ever. Besides, I'm spoken for..."

_By whom?_ the voice asked. _A dead boy?_

There was a sudden and distinct pang in the area of her heart. "What if he hadn't been captured?" she asked herself suddenly. "What if Radoc Lafoym hadn't been captured, and I had joined him?"

Her inner voice finished, _Would he really bring Draco back? And if so, why?_

"I don't know," she sighed, stepping away from the window and sitting down on her bed. "I don't know, and I'll never have a chance to find out."

_March_

He took a deep breath of the cool air, letting it fill his lungs with gratitude. Azkaban was a stuffy place, and had the scent of someone who hadn't bathed in years. The saying was that if insanity didn't kill you, lack of hygiene would.

He stared around, watching the blue and purple clouds caressing the mountains in the distance as the stars twinkled in the sky, gazing at the small pond where geese were nestled in slumber, inspecting the sloping fields and adorable little cottages that dotted the landscape surrounding him. A few yards away was a charming wooden sign, that read _Peaceful Knolls_ in a very neat script.

After looking around some more, he turned to his right, and spoke to the woman who was with him.

"Peaceful Knolls?" he chuckled darkly. "Are you sure these people are alright with me living here?"

"Positive," the woman replied, taking out a small, leather-bound book and opening it. "I talked to all of them last week, and they said they would be delighted to have you . . ."

"And what about my house?" he questioned. "They're fine with me moving it here?"

"Yes, sir." the woman replied efficiently. "On the count of three, then?"

"One," he began, raising his wand, "two, three!"

And then, together they shouted: "_Accio Malfoy Manor!_"

Ginny opened her eyes to see orange light. The sun was beginning to rise, and she had been dreaming . . . Again. She took a few deep breaths, and sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

She had been dreaming about him. It was rather irritating, but it was the truth, and she had to face it.

Why he had been in the countryside, she had no idea . . . After all, he was supposed to be locked up . . . Alone. Forever.

She sighed once again, and tried to push his handsome face from her thoughts. His arched eyebrows, his pointy nose, his distinguished chin, and his accusing eyes. Of course, it wasn't working. There were two possibilities for why it wasn't working.

Either she really needed to talk to him or - but that was just absurd. Completely and utterly absurd.

And that was when she heard the incredulous and angry shout from the kitchen -

"WHAT ON EARTH DO THEY THINK THEY'RE DOING?!"

And she ran downstairs as she recognized the voice. It was Ron, and as she drew nearer the kitchen she heard more voices, more angry muttering, and more curses.

She stood in the doorway, staring at her entire family: her Mum and Dad; Bill and his girlfriend, Clara; Charlie and his wife Alexandra; Percy and Penelope; Fred and Angelina, standing next to George and Alicia; and finally Ron and Hermione.

They all looked at her as she came into view, and their expressions suggested someone had died, or that she had turned into a man over night.

"I thought you said she wouldn't be up for another hour or so," Bill said quietly, turning to look at his mother.

"It was probably Ron's shouting that woke her up," Hermione whispered audibly, and poked Ron with her finger.

"Why are you all here?" Ginny asked, looking around at them. "I mean, not that I don't want to see you, but . . . And why was Ron yelling?"

They continued to look at her, their expressions changing slightly, so that they all looked very sad.

"Ginny," Charlie said, taking a few steps closer to her, and then stopping. "Ginny, he won his trial. He was acquitted, and sent away, his powers intact."

Ginny blinked. Reality hit her with the force of a double-decker bus, and her knees buckled with the weight of this new knowledge, this new idea that now began to gnaw angrily on her brain and create a funny buzzing noise inside her ears.

"What did you say?" she asked breathlessly.

The room was silent.

"That's what I thought," she replied, taking a deep breath. "I'm going to get dressed, and then I'm going into town for a while," she added, thinking quickly.

"When will you be back?" Mrs. Weasley asked hurriedly.

"I don't know, Mum," Ginny replied, sighing deeply. "I suppose when I get my questions answered."

Diagon Alley was not a very crowded place that day. There were a few witches in the robes shop, and a group of wizards around Ginny's age gazing longingly at the new broomstick models, and discussing how much better their game would be if they only had enough money . . .

But Ginny was more concerned with the building that was crammed between Flourish and Blotts, and the Magical Menagerie. It was a tall place, made of scrubbed blue brick, and had dainty little flowers in front of it. The sign on the door read: BENSON, FITCH, and CARDONNELSON, ATTORNEYS AT LAW in very intimidating text.

Nevertheless, she pushed the door open and walked inside.

There were three secretaries with signs above their desks, saying which lawyer they worked for. Ginny approached the desk of Mr. Fitch's secretary, and asked, very carefully:

"Excuse me, but may I please speak with Mr. Fitch?"

"Are you from any newspaper, periodical, or news show?" the woman replied, sounding as though she had asked this oh-too-many times.

"Oh, no," Ginny said, pulling a magazine article from her pocket, and showing it to her inquirer. "No, my name's Ginny Weasley . . ." she continued. "If it's alright, I would like to speak to him about Mr. Lafoym's trial . . ."

"Down the hall, third door on the right," the secretary sighed, but kept the magazine clipping, reading it with interest.

When Ginny reached the door, she found it open, and a tall, thin man sitting behind a desk looked up at her.

"Miss Weasley, I presume," he said, almost pleasantly, as he scribbled a note on a piece of parchment, and quickly tied it to the leg of an owl that was perched on his desk. "Here about Mr. - er, Lafoym's trial, no doubt. Well, come in and have a seat. What's on your mind?"

Ginny had a seat, and looked at Mr. Fitch, trying to think of what to say. "Well," she began, still wondering how to word her many questions. She began with: "How did he win? I mean, for heaven's sake, we all know he's guilty - me, especially - so how in the world could they let him go?"

Mr. Fitch looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "I take it no one's told you, then," he said, sighing.

"Told me what?" Ginny asked, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

"I'm not sure that's for me to say," he replied, eyeing her as though she were made of glass. He pulled a piece of paper from a stack and read whatever was printed there with unnerving silence. "It says here you have a history of - er - mental instability, and the story of Mr. - eh, Lafoym's life is lengthy, grievous, and rueful . . . You might not be able to handle it."

"I'm not asking for his life history," Ginny sighed warily.

"But you see," Mr. Fitch said, lowering his voice to a slightly arcane tone. "If I were to give you the account of - er, Radoc's trial, your mind would be muddled up; so as I'm sure you can see, it is much easier if I start from the beginning to avoid further disconcertion."

"When, exactly, was the beginning?" she asked.

He smiled in a rather despondent manner. "I'll just give you the minutes, shall I?" he replied, pulling a few papers from a desk drawer. "And you can keep them - being as unorganized as I am, I'm sure that there are other copies somewhere..."

"Thanks," she said, taking the papers, and standing carefully.

After she left, Xerxes Fitch brought out a new piece of paper, dipped his quill into some blue ink, and wrote:

_Mr. Malfoy - _

_ I gave her the papers, contrary to your wishes. However, you must understand that she would have found out someday, whether she met your future children in a bookstore, or she read your obituary in the paper. _

_ I did it in her best interest. _

_Yours, _

_Xerxes Fitch_

When she arrived home, it was much later than she thought it had been. The sun was already beginning to set, bringing a dark and unearthly glow about the place. Instead of going inside, where Ginny knew she would face inquiries on her whereabouts, she stayed on the back porch, facing an open field/forest, and sitting on a porch-swing. Conjuring a light with her wand, she turned to the first paper, submitting herself to be caught up in the memories of one Radoc Lafoym.

At least, to her knowledge he was Radoc Lafoym.


	10. Chapter 10

When the Night Broke

**When the Night Broke** - By Hannah Davenport

**Summary:** Sequel to "Bent" and "Twisted." Five years later, Ginny is a bored and very depressed employee at Flourish and Blotts. Outside her drawn-in, little world lies an evil overlord of doom by the name of Radoc Lafoym, who is threatening society. How do they relate?

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. It's just fan fiction!

**Work Cited: **Harry Potter Realm

**Chapter Ten**

_The File of Radoc Lafoym_

The first thing you must understand about the tale I am about to relate, is that I do not do so willingly. In fact, if I did not consider this absolutely requisite, I would begin with 'I am a guilty archfiend, lock me up!'. However, this story pertains a great deal to my life, and I am told by my attorney that to leave it unsaid would be perjury - and I'm sure you don't need me to tell you that I have enough crimes against my name, and that I really don't need to add perjury, no matter how much this series of events disgraces my being.

The second, is that all of this is completely real. Nothing was concocted from my own fancy, although sometimes I sincerely doubt that fact. I remember every event with stinging detail, but I will understand if some of you do not fully believe me. No one has believed me about anything through the course of my life. I've grown quite used to it, so please feel free to make your opinion known.

Once upon a time...

My family has always been one for blood, in both a vicious and genealogical sense. However, we were usually preoccupied with the latter. My parents taught me not to carry on civil conversations with anyone who had lesser than I - people who were poor, Muggle-born, or half-blood were strictly on the 'NO' list, and to act according to my status.

This is probably why I was astonished when an act of kindness was conferred upon me by one Virginia Weasley.

I was seventeen, and had suffered a severe punishment from my father the night before I was due back at school. Feeling extremely nettled, and rather depressed, I went off to a compartment on the Hogwarts Express, - completely alone - when I realized I hadn't shut the door. So, not bothering to hide my hammered face, I stood in the doorway, when Miss Weasley approached me and asked if I was alright.

She fixed me up, congratulated me on making the position of Head Boy, and was on her way. But before I go any further, I want to apologize if I get too - maudlin . . . I am not generally a sentimental person, but certain things about Miss Weasley invoke certain emotions.

Now, as I was saying: of course, after being treated nicely by someone I was rather boorish towards, I was curious. Why did she want to be my Good Samaritan? Why would she help me? After all, I had seen her father and mine brawling in a bookstore! It made no sense.

After I had that matter cleared up - the answer to those questions being that she was an extremely ethical person, and tried to like everyone - she and I became friends, and eventually we fell in love. (Minister, I can hear you gasping . . .) My father, however, did not agree to this situation.

On the morning after my eighteenth birthday, he took me from Hogwarts, and I was never seen again. At least, not under my true name.

After that, I was incarcerated in the dungeon of my own house, Death Eaters occupying the station of warden until it was Torture Time - when Lucius and Voldemort took over. There were three years of bodily persecution. Three years that felt like six years in hell, through both my mentality and physicality. When those three years were over, there were two years of training. And then I emerged with an extremely ironic anagram for a name. Please take note of this:

**RADOC LAFOYM **

**DRACO MALFOY**

Yes, Voldemort always was one for games, even if they were word games. And, adding to my new name, he gave me a new personality. I'm sure you've all heard of the Filispo Curse . . .

Once again, I do not expect a single one of you to believe me. After all, I am a loathsome person. And you all found Draco Malfoy's body after he went missing from Hogwarts. You all saw the atrocious corpse lying in the flower garden of Malfoy Manor. Or rather, you saw the transfigured remains of a dog.

Believe me, if you will. I really could care less. I am faced with either life alone or death, and at the moment, death sounds more appetizing.

_After the Trial_

The jury sat around a large, rectangular table, all of them looking extremely uncomfortable. They just _had_ to be called on _this_ trial! Most of them were rather old, with tremendously thick glasses or wavering voices. However, none of them seemed to know what to do.

"'Ee did say 'ee wanted ter die," said one of them, furrowing his white eyebrows.

"And the story is rather erratic," added a woman, who was starting some knitting.

The youngest jury member - who was about forty - stood up at those comments. "Excuse me," she said, clearing her throat. "But, if he wants to die, isn't it better to make him live?"

There was a general murmur of agreement, and then the others began to smile, and that was how the jury decided whether or not 'Draco Malfoy' would live.

**Its complete ! yay ! .. thats the end .. hope you enjoyed reading the three part series.. "Bent" "Twisted" "When the night broke" . Reviews are always welcomed. **


End file.
